


Scrapbook

by IWriteStuffAndThings



Series: Malic and Jamie: Random Romance [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cute, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Happy, Love, M/M, Mental Illness, Romance, Sad, because obviously, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-06-23 09:59:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15603852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWriteStuffAndThings/pseuds/IWriteStuffAndThings
Summary: “No, no,” he says, “The scrapbook is on the house, it’s my pleasure to help make stories.”My jaw hits the floor, “Nope, I’m paying for it, how much is it.”“There is no price cause it’s free,” he says with a smirk clearly thinking he’s won.“Fine,” I say, feigning defeat, “Well, here’s your tip,” I say as I drop a one hundred dollar bill into the tip jar.“I watch as his eyes practically bulge out of his skull, “I can’t take that,” he said, “I would feel awful.”“Don’t,” I say with a genuine smile.---Malic trys to escape his boring, everyday life of being a multimillion-dollar Hollywood idol and decides to go to downtown LA. Little does he expect a small Antiquities shop with the most gorgeous man Malic has ever seen.Snapshots of a romance well loved.





	1. Cute

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy, leave your feedback in the comments!

I sit back in my chair as I finish yet another conference call. My pitch went over well and I’m sure there’s a pretty high chance that at least one of my investors will adopt the plan. Whatever, normal business stuff, time to get back into regular clothes.

I let my eyes scan the floorboards of my house as I autopilot myself back to my bedroom. It seems like every day nowadays is the same. Wake up, business, business, business… sleep. Each day accompanied by the ever-growing dread that my life getting too monotonous for me to even be able to function.

I watch myself start to grab my lounge clothes. "No," I tell myself, "It’s time to do something different. I need to get out of this house. It’s time to explore the town." But how, exactly? I can’t just walk outside, with my face being on every magazine within an immediate five-mile radius I would get noticed in a second.

Are sunglasses good enough?

Fuck it.

I grab my most stylish flannel and jeans and grab my most “I’m not a rich playboy” sunglasses. I check myself out in the mirror, not to bad. I should wear common people outfits more often.

Now for the transportation situation, I can’t take my sportscar… okay sportscars, into town. Oh I know, I’ll just take my bike. I half run half walk to my garage. From there I grab my bike from the rack on the wall and the bike lock right next to it and take it out of the side door. I feel a giddy smile grow across my face as it feels like I might be able to have a normal life for just five and a half seconds. I lift my foot onto the pedal and push myself down my driveway.

I haven’t ridden this thing in like… ten years.

I feel myself wobbling like crazy as I desperately try to cling to the last bit of control I have. I start to stabilize. Just kidding, I fall off the bike. I quickly stand up and take a quick glance around me just to make sure no one saw, It’s stupid but I guess it’s just a habit I have from the paparazzi constantly catching every embarrassing moment.  Nope, all clear.

I stand the bike back up and gently place my foot back on the pedal. Okay, let’s take this slow. I slowly start to crawl forward, then faster, than faster. Soon enough I’m moving at a reasonable pace and feel fairly confident. Time to ride.

I watch as the large luxury houses of my neighborhood give way into large streets lined with shops and office buildings. I decide to diverge from the main road for fear of being run over and or noticed. I start to make my way around the side streets of the downtown area. It’s odd to see how the mainstream shops disappear and are instead replaced by smaller, non-chain shops. Although nothing is catching my attention.

A couple more turns and a few blocks later I see a bike rack. I glide over to the curb and come to a halt. I roll my bike onto the sidewalk and maneuver it into the rack. I start to wrap the bike lock around it. Wait, I don’t remember the code. 

Wait, it’s me.

D-I-C-K

I’m such an idiot.

With my newly lockable bike lock, I start to walk down the sidewalk towards the parts of the street I haven’t explored yet. There are a lot of small boutiques, kids stores, and a bunch of other things I don’t really care about. That’s when I see it.

A small shop stands in front of me with old-timey print on the windows and small display stands.

Toys and Antiquities

I quickly maneuver towards the front of the shop without another thought in my head. I push the door open, hearing the chime of a metal bell covered in rust as I step in. Immediately I am surrounded by shelves and racks of tin toys and other old objects. The shop is dimly lit so I instinctively take off my sunglasses. I scan the shelves and gently run my hand over some of the objects. A hollow tin bus with scraped paint, then a wooden yo-yo with a frayed string, a bag of faded marbles, jacks, dolls, teddy bears and so on. Eventually, I wind up in the far corner of the store. 

I find a glass box, and on a perch inside is a small, mechanical bird. A bluebird to be specific. I could just barely see the gears on his underbelly and the hinges on his body were so well hidden they were almost invisible.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it,” a soft voice behind me says.

I reflexively jump, startled by the sudden presence of a human behind me. I look over to whoever just spoke. They had light auburn hair that sat in a slightly shaggy mess on top of their head. Their face showed slight freckles and their eyes shown with the color of hot chocolate. A quick glance at their body showed me that it was a boy and a very cute one at that. He was small yet had a slightly stocky build. He was clothed in a brown t-shirt and jeans. Funnily enough it looks like he hasn’t even looked at me directly yet.

“Yes, it is,” I said, trying to end the awkward silence I left by staring at him.

“I think of everything here she has the most interesting history.”

I cocked my head to show I was interested, “Really, what’s it’s story.”

“Well, it was my great grandmother's wedding gift. Back then it was its original copper color. My great granddad said it was her something new. Then my grandpa gave it to my grandma as her something new and her something borrowed. Than my grandparents house was flooded in a storm and this bird was soaked. Luckily it was salvaged. However, when copper rusts it turns blue, and that’s exactly what happened. Then it was passed onto my dad and he gave it to my mom as her something old, her something new, her something borrowed, and her something blue.”

I noticed the smile that had crossed my face as he was telling the story, “Is she going to pass it on to you?”

“If she had the chance to I’m sure she would have,” He said with a somber smile.

I instantly understood what he meant, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to press.”

“Don’t worry about it, I love talking about the stories of the things in here, anyways is there anything I can help you with.” He said as for the first time during this conversation he actually looked at me. His smile faltered and his face seemed to drop.

Oh no, I don’t have my glasses on. Did he recognize me?

Suddenly his smile returned, but there seemed to be added interest behind it.

Oh, wait he asked me a question, “Uh, yeah I was looking for something to make my life less… boring.”

He seemed to be thinking for a second, then I saw a brightness come to his eyes, “I know just the thing.”

He walked into the back and left me to think for a second. Well, he didn’t comment on who I was so he must not have recognized me. But what was that look he gave me? Before I could think anything else I heard a loud thud on the front counter.

“Hey...uh, guy come here,” I heard the man say accompanied by a giggle. I walked to the front counter and saw him holding a big book like object with intricate stitching in the front cover. “I realize now that I didn’t catch your name.”

“It’s Malic, and you?”

“Jamie.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Jamie,” I said as I extend my hand. He grasps it and shakes.

“Nice to meet you as well, Malic.”

“Anyways, what’s this idea of your’s.”

He nods, “Well, I know it sounds stupid, but I would suggest scrapbooking, or at least keeping a photo log.”

“Why is that?”

“Well,” he said, “I’m a firm believer in the fact that everything has a story, why not make some.”

Huh, well that would make my life less boring. “Have you ever scrapbooked before,” I asked.

He shook his head.

“Well if I’m going to break my scrapbook virginity you should too, after all, you are ‘Mr. Stories,” I said to him with a raised eyebrow.

He seemed to think about it for a bit, but quickly nodded, “Let’s do it.”

I couldn’t explain why I felt so comfortable around him already. Maybe it has something to do with him being the first stranger I’ve met in a while who hasn’t tried to tackle me. Maybe it’s because he is extremely cute. Who knows?

“Do you have something to take a picture with,” I asked him.

Sparkles seemed to fill his eyes as he got suddenly giddy, “Hold on,” and then he was off.

Seconds later he returned from the back room carrying what looked like a 60’s Polaroid camera.

“I just happen to have to have a bit more film in this,” he smiled.

He walked around the counter to my side and handed me the camera. I didn’t realize how much shorter he is than me. Somehow that made him even more adorable than I thought. I put my arm around his shoulder and used my other arm to hold the camera in front of us. We both smile as the camera shutters, the picture moves out of the camera and I take it and set it aside and take another picture. We peel the negative off of our photos and shake it revealing the picture we just took.

“That’s a good picture,” he says as he begins to pocket it.

“Wait,” I said, “We have to write a caption.”

“But I don’t know what to write,” he pouted.

“Here, hand me your picture and a marker.” He does as I ask and I scribble some words onto the back of the photo and then scribble some onto mine. I slide my picture into the scrapbook and begin to take out my wallet to pay for it.

“No, no,” he says, “The scrapbook is on the house, it’s my pleasure to help make stories.”

My jaw hits the floor, “Nope, I’m paying for it, how much is it.”

“There is no price cause it’s free,” he says with a smirk clearly thinking he’s won.

“Fine,” I say, feigning defeat, “Well, here’s your tip,” I say as I drop a one hundred dollar bill into the tip jar.

“I watch as his eyes practically bulge out of his skull, “I can’t take that,” he said, “I would feel awful.”

“Don’t,” I say with a genuine smile.

“I swear if you ever come back here again I will pay back every cent,” he says with sincerity in his eyes.

I grab the book, “No need, it’s my pleasure to help make stories,” I say in a teasing tone. His half-baked attempts at making a response followed me as I walked towards the door. “Oh,” I said catching his attention, “Make sure to read your captions, you never know what stories you might find.”

I left the store knowing full well that he would find my phone number on the back of that picture. So as I hopped on my bike with my book in hand I thought about my first caption.

 

**Cute**

 

  
  
  



	2. Screenshot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malic receives a text from an anonymous number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoying the story, follow me on Tumblr for more updates. (https://writtenstuffandthings.tumblr.com/)

I hear the now familiar squeal of my brakes as I come to a halt after expertly guiding myself into my driveway. I grab my bag from the handle of my bike and begin to walk the vehicle to my side door. I shasé through the door, eager to unpack my newly acquired treasure. I gently slide the leather-covered book from the contrasting traditional plastic bag. I can’t help but run my hand across the smooth cover and the metal intricacies of the binding. I curl the tips of my fingers under the front cover and slowly lift it as if there is something more precious than a simple picture under it.

I don’t know why this specific encounter felt so foreign. It’s not like I hadn’t hit on people before, typically women for the media's sake. I wonder what they would do if they found out I was gay, America’s biggest bachelor becomes America’s biggest flamer. 

Yeah, no thanks.

I’m recentered on reality as I realize I’ve been staring at our vintage selfie for an uncomfortable amount of time. I just couldn’t help but feel some sort of connection to this little shopkeeper. In retrospect, it's ridiculous, I had known him for all of two and a half seconds. Yet I felt himself sinking into every pore of my being, absorbing every single thought that crossed my mind.

This is gonna be a problem.

I wonder if I came on too strong? Let’s hope not, I would hate to ruin whatever happened.

He’s probably straight.

Shit, I mentally facepalm as I realize that if he did eventually recognize me how much this could ruin me. I’m going to die.

_ Buzz _

I reflexively grab my phone from my pocket.

Text from an unknown number.

_ Hey, it’s Jamie _

Holy shit, what do I say? I feel my hands shake with the beginning of jitters

Wow, role reversal.

I feel my fingers type a, “Hey, sorry if I came on too strong,” before backspacing until I had, “Hey.”

Hey, really Malic? God, I’m such an id-

_ Buzz _

_ So obviously I got your message, uh… _

HOW DO I RESPOND TO THAT.

_ Buzz _

_ I’m a bit confused on whether that was a friendly pick-up message or a romantic one. _

My fingers fly into autopilot as they force a, “It’s whatever you want it to be.”

That was cheesy, how do the magazines even pretend that I'm smooth. Why is my heart beating so fast, I can hardly breath. No, calm down Malic, you can do this.

_ Buzz _

_ Well, what do you want it to be? _

Shit. Should I be frank about it and just say, “Yeah, can I put my face on your’s?” No, that’s way too creepy, how about, “I would like to marry you but hey no big deal.” Definitely no. Oh, I know, "I'd like to have lots of babies with you." What the fuck. Goddammit, Malic can you not be creepy for four and a half seconds. 

Okay, I got it for sure this time.

“I would like to go out sometime.”

...

_ Yeah, I would too. _

_... _

I fight the urge to jump into the air and scream. I talk a deep breath, frame the text in the center of the phone screen, and

 

 

 

**Screenshot**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, leave a comment on your thoughts and if you want any updates on future projects or more writing, in general, follow me on Tumblr. (https://writtenstuffandthings.tumblr.com/)


	3. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malic and Jamie spend a night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoying this story and want to see more + updates, follow me on Tumblr, (https://writtenstuffandthings.tumblr.com/), If not, then feel free to leave a comment with your thoughts on this story.

I finished adjusting the collar of my shirt for the ten billionth time. Fidgeting is just part of my nature I guess. _Is it too late to cancel? I mean, we could do this another time, and I’ve never taken a guy out before so I should probably just postpone, right?_

No Malic, get your shit together and get in your car. You want to take this guy out, you want to have a nice evening with him. Go!

_ Are we sure? I mean I could always just tell him I’m sic- _

The sound of my key in the ignition signifies my final decision with a stomach-churning rumble. A few moments later I am blindly following the directions of my GPS.

Why am I so nervous anyway? I’ve been on plenty dates before.

Dates set up by my marketing agency count right?

God, I really haven't been on a date before, have I? I mean what 25 years old hasn’t gone on a date. Oh, that’s right, one with famous parents who forced them into stardom from a young age… so me?

I mean, it’s just like a meeting, except I’m thinking about the numerous ways I can put my face on their face, impress them, talk them home, and not so subtly show that I really enjoy them in every sense of the word. So yeah, exactly like a meeting.

I need to stop psyching myself out? If anything I should be the one who isn’t nervous. I mean I am the head of a multimillion dollar franchise, and the product is me. I shouldn’t be terrified by meeting anyone, so why am I? Is it because of the incredible personality or gorgeous face? Is it the clear sense of individuality possessed by him or the fact that he looks at me unlike anyone else.? Why can’t I ignore this feeling in my belly?

_ Stop in 50 feet _

I gently applied pressure to the brake pedal and coasted to a stop in front of an apartment complex. I felt my gaze scan the building as I took a deep breath. You can do this.

I popped open my door and sauntered to the buzzer on the gate, pressed the apartment number I had gotten from his messages, and pushed the intercom button.

“Hello.”

“Hey, it’s, uh, Malic.”

The shift in the tone of his voice was quite clear, from a cautious murmur to a high-pitched chirp, “Okay, I’ll be right down.”

I continued to wait, tapping my foot to distract myself from the night I was about to have. I need to think of something else. Uh, wow, what a nice sunset. Well, that’s a nice car. Hm, maybe there's a-

“Hey.” I take my time turning around, trying to collect myself before I make eye contact with this man. He stands there, smiling, in some black jeans that fit him tightly, a black shirt, and a tan bomber jacket. He looks stunning.

“Uh, hi,” I say, launching out of my daze, yet we still stand there looking at each other for longer than necessary, “So uh, ready to go?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he nods as we walk towards my car and I open his door for him. He makes a sarcastic display of royalty as he steps into the passenger seat, eliciting a chuckle from the both of us. I quickly move around the car and get behind the wheel.

“So, how are you?”

“I’ve been good,” I answer, “And you?”

“Good… so where are we going?”

“Oh, right,” I chuckle at my silliness, “There’s this little Italian place in this area, sound good?”

“Sounds wonderful,” He says looking at me.

Soon enough we fall into comfortable conversation, nothing major just the basic exchanging of small talk intermittent with occasional “You look wonderful” and the such. There is something so nice about the monotony of conversations like this. You don’t have to worry about how you speak and what you say, everything is surface level and the overall ease of the back and forth flow of questions and answers distracts from any sense of nervousness or excitement that comes with most interactions. I rarely experience a conversation like this, it's such a stark contrast from the intellectual nature of most of my meetings and the such. The only time I don’t have to worry about my answers is when I’m meeting fans, and that’s less of a conversation and more of a one-sided compliment off, with lots of screaming. 

However, that would be expected since I really don't talk to people much. I rarely get a chance to talk to people without my brand invading every crevice of the space that words should be filling. It’s so easy to pretend like the casual greetings and small talk are real when you are speaking with a manager or colleague, in fact, I thought it was real. However, I realize now that they weren’t. What I’ve experienced through my life, nothing compares to now. Nothing even comes close to any interaction I’ve had with Jamie. From the store to my phone, to now. Our words flow from each other without any hesitation, each question eliciting answers at light speed and each answer logically leading to the next question. Disagreements are almost non-existent but when they are they are very easily glossed over by the rumble of my car as we turn the next corner. Everything feels so natural. However, as much as I try to distract myself I can still feel the hollow feeling in my stomach and the chill that runs up my spine every time we make eye-contact.

And yet, here we are. Sitting in the same car, slowing down and we pull into a parking spot behind a restaurant.

The conversation dies down with the engine of the vehicle and I make a motion to open my door and briskly move to the other side, struggling to get to the other side before he can open the door, but I manage.

As I extend my hand to help him out of the car I hear him say, “You know you don’t have to treat me like royalty.”

“Why, do you not like it,” I question as I help him out and close his door.

“No, but,” he looks down, “I’m just not used to guys treating me like this.”

“Well, then those guys clearly don’t know how to treat someone like you.” Although the sky is dark the light dusting of pink that blossoms across his cheeks is still visible by the glow of the surrounding shops.

I don’t typically flirt that way, or be that forward on the first date. Although I don’t think I’ve ever been on a date with someone like Jamie. Is it because he’s the first guy I’ve gone on a date with? No, I don’t think so. So what’s different, why has everything about tonight been so different?

“After you,” I say as I hold the door open for him. He flashes me a smile as he waltzes through the door. Once inside we walk up to the woman standing at a podium. “Excuse me,” I said, getting her attention, “I called earlier for a reservation.”

Without even looking up from the tablet on the table she asks, “Name.”

“Johansson.”

“Follow me,” she looks up and the flash of recognition is as bright as the signs outside. Fuck, “Uh-uh,” she stutters and frantically grabs menus and begins to walk towards the restaurant area. Darn, that’s gonna be annoying. I turn to Jamie to see if he noticed. He, however, is not looking at me or the waitress, he is looking at the restaurant. His eyes are filled with shock as the light from the glass chandelier above shimmers on his eyes. When he realizes I’ve been staring at him his focus snaps to me, a faint look of worry on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Malic, this is so nice, I uh,” he seems bashful, “I don’t think I can pay for this.”

I try to stifle a laugh, but a chuckle escapes my lips anyways, eliciting a glare from my companion, “Hey, don’t get mad, you don’t have to pay for this, I’ll cover you.” I send him a smile of reassurance.

“But I-”

“No, I’ll pay, trust me it’s really not a problem.”

His face contorts into an almost pout but before he can say anything the waitress has directed us to our seats. I pull out his seat for him, however, the gesture of etiquette is not received as well as when I look to my side to signal for Jamie to sit down, I see he has done the same for the chair on the other side of the table. We look at each other, holding gazes for a moment before both of us burst into laughter. 

“No after you good sir,” I say in between gasping breaths.

“No, no, I insist,” He says, both of us in the midst of laugh-crying as we sink into the seats we pulled out for the other.

“So,” I say as I calm down, “Tell me something about you.”

“Well, I was born here, in LA. From there I was moved to Kansas. Land of the dull in my opinion. We lived out in this almost shack-like house and really didn’t do anything except go to school, come home, and either play a game or read. Obviously, we didn’t have internet so I spent a lot of time in the library-”

“A library,” I said in a hyperactive display of disbelief, sarcastically saying, “What is that.”

He puts on his best old man voice, “Well you see, young one, a library is an ancient ruin, where the ancients would store these things called books,” He couldn’t hold his character any longer and we both started to chuckle softly. 

“Anyways, yes so I read a lot of books, but because my town decided that we can’t have anything relevant, all of the books predated the 60’s, which left me with only knowing things about the past. Although, I am quite thankful for it because that exposure to history was what made me fall in love with the idea of antiques. However the move back to LA from the old-timey land of… Kansas was not an easy transition. Granted, I came back for college so I didn’t have to deal with any bullies like in the movies, but I didn’t know how to use a cell phone, I didn’t have a laptop, so I had to get adjusted fast.” I nodded along, not quite sure what it was meant to imply, whether it was reassurance that I was listening or me somehow agreeing with the fact that he had a childhood . . . let’s go with the first. 

I opened my mouth to add something, but before I could our server walked over, “Hello, my name is Jessica and I’ll be your server for this evening, can I get you started with any drinks?”

I glanced over to see if Jamie was going to order a drink for himself. After a small pause I spoke, “Uh, just waters for now.” She smiled and walked off, “So, where were we, rough transition.”

He looked down, “Uh, maybe we should shift it over to you.”

Panic mode engage. Can I tell him that I’m famous, will that scare him off. What do I say?

“Hey,” he broke into my thoughts, “You good?”

“Uh, yeah I just don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay, we don’t have to talk about anything in particular.”

I smiled, “Yeah, I guess.”

Suddenly I see two glasses being set in front of us, “Have you two decided on any appetizers?”

Oh yeah, we’re at a restaurant, “Uh.” I send a quick glance to Jamie to see if he wants to order anything, he is quickly scanning the menu, “Can we have a little more time.”

“Of course,” she smiled as she walked away.

“So, where were we-” I stop when I see the look of panic on Jamie’s face, “What’s wrong.”

“Malic, I can’t afford any of this, the appetizers are twenty dollars each.”

“Oh, that’s good,” He looks mortified, “I was going to pay for this meal anyway.”

“I feel bad.”

“Don’t, it’s my treat,” I flash him a smile.

“Wait, how can you afford all of this?”

Shit, I can’t tell him that I’m head of a brand, or a movie star, or a playboy, or just famous in general, can I? Everyone that I have ever really known has had some idea of who I was prior to meeting me. How will he react? Will he think I’m weird? Be intimidated? 

But what if I lie to him? Will he be angry? Will he feel betrayed? Will he be hurt? From the small amount of time that I’ve known him I have most definitely decided that I would not want to see him get hurt, by me or any other means. So what do I even do?

“Hey,” he says, bringing me back to reality, “Are you still there?”

“Uh, yeah… hi, I was, uh, just thinking,” I say with nervous laughter.

“About?”

“How I was going to answer your question,” my nerves caused me to scratch the back of my head shamefully.

“Oh,” he cocked his head, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to be upfront with you.”

“Okay,” he nods his head with a sweet smile.

Silence

More silence.

Goddammit, speak you idiot-

“Hey, Malic. Are you okay?”

“Uh,”

“Really you don’t have to talk about it,” I can tell he seems nervous, great now he probably thinks I sell crack.

“No, it’s nothing bad,” I say answering his unspoken question, “It’s just kinda-”

“Have you guys decided on your appetizers.”

FUCKING JESSICA

“Uh, yes,” Jamie spoke, “Can we get some breadsticks for the table.”

“Of course, will that be all,” Jamie shot me a look.

“Yes, that’ll do it,” I said. She nodded and walked away.

“You were saying,” He says with a calm tone to his voice.

“Uh, right, so I’m kinda a” the raise of his eyebrows egged me on, “millionaire playboy who is just the eensy-teensy-winsey-est bit famous.”

The sound of his jaw hitting the floor was more than audible.

“Seriously,” he asked, mouth still open.

“Seriously,” I said, nodding.

A hush fell over our table, bringing with it the mellow chatter of the rest of the establishment. Oh, god he’s not talking. I scared him off, he’s going to hate me, this is i-

“Okay,” he said and glanced back at his menu.

“Okay?” I question.

“Okay,” He says with an assuring smile.

“You aren’t weirded out or anything?”

“I collect old toys and trinkets and sell them,” he says, deadpan.

“Okay,” I say.

“Okay,” he says, somehow sweetly, “Anyways, we should figure out what we are ordering before Jessica comes back,” he says with a chuckle.

“Right,” I return. Followed by a quick scanning of the menu.

“Here are your breadsticks.”

Speak of the devil.

“Thank you,” I said politely.

“Have you two decided what you want to eat?”

“Uh, yes can I get your carbonara.” 

“And can I get,” I pondered for a moment, “Your chicken parmesan.”

“I’ll be right out with those.” And with that, she walked away.

Jamie let his head hit the table, “Queen of crappy timing.”

I laugh, “So where were we?”

“I was accepting the fact that you are famous.”

“Right,” I nod, “So it doesn’t bother you.”

“No,” There was something behind those eyes that he didn’t want me to see, “As long as it’s you I’m dating and not the fame that comes with you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna try to keep this under wraps,” I admit.

“Why?”

“I’m not really, you know,” I made a rainbow with my hands.

“You’re not out to them,” He clarified.

I nod.

“Okay,” he sighs, “Am I going to have to pretend I don’t know you.”

Will he? I don’t want him to have to. I want to be able to be with him, to hold his hand, to go on dates. Can I really hold off on that level of comfort just to protect my image that may or may not be shattered?

“I have a feeling,” I start, “That my persona might not last long with you around.” 

“Is that okay?”

“I do-”

“Here is your chicken parmesan,” Seriously, “and your carbonara. Would you two like anything else?”

“No, thank you,” Jamie says, exasperated.

“Alright, you too enjoy your night.” She says and hurries away, thank god.

“I swear to god I think she’s just trying to be funny at this point,” I say with a chuckle.

He giggles with me, “So what now?”

“Well, we finish dinner, we leave this place, then we have one more stop, and decide whether or not we want to see each other again.” It’s frank but accurate.

He leans forward, “I think we could do one of those things right now.” He holds a playful look in his eye, like that was a challenge. 

“Me too, but aren’t you a little… you know-”

“Put off by the whole you ‘being famous’ thing,” I nod, “No, we all have our things, our demons, our perks. I can deal with yours if you can deal with mine.” He says with an almost flirtatious smirk.

“I think I can manage,” Flirtatious, me. 

“I have one condition though.”

“By all means,” I encourage.

“If you are found out, unless it means that much to you, please don’t sweep me under the rug like I’m just your straight friend.”

I quiet, “Okay.”

More silence.

“We got a lot done on the first date.” He says through a small smile.

I guess we did. So why him? It seems to be the question of the evening. Why do we click so well? Why are we so accepting of each other? Why the hell is Jessica walking back to our table? 

“Would you two like to see the dessert menu?”

I glance at Jamie, he shakes his head, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Alright, well then here is your bill,” She hands me a cushioned folder. I glance at the bill, quickly sign it off, add a tip, and slide my card into the folder. Finally, I hand it back to her and she walks away, letting me turn my attention back to Jamie to find his mouth open.

“What’s wrong?”

“We ordered two meals and the total was that much?” Oh right, I guess this place is pretty pricey. I don’t know, it was only a hundred, maybe two.

“Don’t worry about it, I got you,” I said.

“We are never going to a fancy, rich person restaurant ever again,” He says. I laugh at how deadpan he is.

“Fine.” The bill quickly returns and I collect my card. Jessica wishes us one final farewell, thank god. We stand and walk back towards the entrance.

“You said we have one more stop,” He asks.

“Yep, you ready.”

“It’s hard to be ready when you don’t know where you’re going,” He admits.

“Fair,” I hold the door open for him, “ But it’s a surprise, so you’re out of luck.”

“Really?”

“Really.” I hold the car door open for him, “Oh, why thank you, good sir,” He says in a corny British accent.

I hop in the other side of the car and pull out of the parking lot. We fall into a comfortable silence, listening to whatever comes onto the radio. We let the music carry through the air as the cityscape falls away behind us as our scenery is replaced by more and more trees. We are traveling up a hill, through an almost meadow-like area.

“You know, if you took me out here to murder me in the woods you couldn’t have picked a prettier setting.” He says, laughing.

“No, I’m not going to murder you, although we are almost there.”

“Almost to you murdering me?” He questions with his eyebrow raised.

“No,” I chuckle, “At least I hope not, but it should be right around this corner.” I make one final turn and then pull to the side of the road.

I get out of the car and go around to help him out, but he beat me to it, “Wow, you really can’t be rude can you.”

“It was a curse bestowed upon me as a child,” I say as I grab his hand and lead him to a large grassy patch, littered with wildflowers. I turned around to him and opened my arms, gesturing to the scenery around us.

“It’s very pretty, but what do w-” I pulled him onto the ground with me. “Hey, what are you…”

His voice fades away as he sees the sky. Away from the lights of the city every star is visible, in every shade you could imagine a star to be.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it,” I ask.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, “I haven’t seen stars like this since Kansas.”

I turn to him, “You look beautiful tonight.” It’s true. The faint glitter of the stars in his eyes, the soft glow of the moon on his skin, the way he moved, the way he breathed, the way he existed sent me into space. Every single look, every laugh, every smile sent me over the moon.

“So do you,” He said, turning to me.

He let his eyes close.

I let mine close as well, moving closer to him.

We let our lips brush, and then w e kissed, just like in the movies.

So there we lay, under the stars, embracing each other.

I have no idea where this will go.

All I know is now.

So what is happening right now?

I’m not sure, but one thing's for sure.

In front of some of the most distracting most beautiful scenery, there is only one thing that matters.

There is only one thing…

That to me…

Will always outshine the

 

**Stars**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, leave a comment and/or follow me on Tumblr, (https://writtenstuffandthings.tumblr.com/)


	4. Of Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malic and Jamie text each other.
> 
> This is basically the Q & A chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, if you are enjoying this then please leave a comment. I would love to hear what you have to sa

Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored. . . 

The one day of the week when I have no meetings, no meet and greets, no conferences, just nothing. And when there’s nothing to do, everything is boring. 

I can check Instagram, but it’s just pictures.

I could tweet, but then my manager will get mad at me for not consulting her first.

I could open up a blank document on google docs and just stare into its emptiness. . .

I mean, I guess it could be fu-

No, just no. I have to do something, I need to talk to someone. I grab my phone out of my pocket and quickly open up my text messages. 

Alisha?

I don’t really feel like texting my manager right now, especially considering the last thing she said to me was “GET OFF YOUR ASS YOU LAZY BITCH AND GET TO THE MEETING ASAP.”

Mom?

I mean I could, but she can’t really hold super great conversations. She doesn’t really know how to use her phone, and when she does manage she just sends me adorable gifs.

Jamie?

Anxiety, anxiety, anxiety. What would I even say? What would we talk about? How would I start? Just type a simple “Hey,” yeah that will work.

Wait I sent that?

I fucking sent it. What do I say now, do I backtrack, should I te-

“ _ Hey _ .”

Well, no turning back now.

“How’ve you been.” Why would I send that, we went on our date two days ago, what the hell.

“ _ I’ve been okay, you?” _

“Good.” That’s all I have to say, are you just going to be boring on top of being bored. Why not say magniflorious or something.

“ _ What are you doing?”  _

Is there a non-boring way of saying bored, “Honestly, not anything, what about you?”

“ _ I’m tending to the store, I have a lot of work that needs to be done. _ ”

“Fun work or bad work.”

“ _ Tedious work. _ ”

“I’m sorry.”

“ _ Yeah, please distract me. _ ”

“Okay, what do you wanna talk about.”

“ _ You pick. _ ” What do I say, what should we talk about?

“Let’s ask each other questions.”

“ _ Okay, you go first.” _

“What is the best meal you’ve ever eaten.”

“ _ Company wise or food wise.” _

“Both.”

“ _ Well, then it was the one we had two days ago. _ ”

“Wow, one question in and we are already sappy.”

“ _ Shut it, I had a really nice time though. _ ”

He’s so cute, “Yeah, me too.”

“ _ Okay, my turn, when was your first date? _ ”

Should I embarrass myself. . . sure why not, “Real or fake date.”

“ _ What? _ ”

“I kinda have a lot of dates set up by my agency with these Instagram models so they can boost their follower count and my agency can monetize my love life.”

“ _ Oh wow, I’m so sorry. _ ”

“It’s okay, we meet once with the paparazzi around and take a couple of pictures, then we never speak again.”

“ _ Sounds lonely. _ ”

“It kinda is, but whatever.”

“ _ You still haven’t answered my questions, and I want real dates _ .”

“Well, then it was two days ago.”

“ _ WHAT. _ ”

“Yeah, I grew up the child of a famous couple, didn’t date anyone in school cause they all knew I was famous and adulthood only brought my agents setting me up. So my first ever real date was with you.”

“ _ Okay, a couple things. 1. I’m very glad I got to take your dating virginity, 2. I’m still shocked, and 3. For someone who has never been on a date, you sure know how to treat a guy. _ ”

“Thank you, I try.”

“ _ Okay, your turn, ask away. _ ”

“What is your sexuality, just to clarify?”

“ _ Oh yeah, I’m pansexual with male preference. _ ”

“Got ya, I’m deciding, just to get that out of the way.”

“ _ All good, no need for labels, don’t force it. _ ”

“Thanks, you ask.”

“ _ What does your marketing agency think of me? _ ”

Uh oh, “They don’t know about you yet.”

“ _ And if they did… _ ”

“There are two bad outcomes,”

“ _ I’m listening. _ ”

“They will either try to make a big deal of my coming out and exploit you and soon you’ll be on the front of tons of scandal magazines and nothing will be private, or they don’t let me come out and keep us from ever being able to see each other long enough for the paparazzi to find out.”

“ _ Are those the only two outcomes. _ ”

“No, and I’ll make sure they aren’t.”

“ _ How so? _ ”

“I’ll put my foot down, everything about us is decided by us, and if they try to do anything concerning you against your will then I can find a new marketing crew.”

“ _..." _

"Jamie?"

_ "I'm flattered, but you really don't have to do that for me." _

“Well I will, if you thought our first date was a lot of pampering then you better get ready for the ride of your life.”

“ _ I can get used to that. _ ”

“You better.”

“ _ Okay, you ask your question. _ ”

“Are you still working?”

“ _ Yes. . . _ ”

“Can I come help?”

“ _ Only on one condition. _ ”

“What?”

“ _ Can we go on a second date? _ ”

 

 

**“Of Course.”**

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, if so leave a comment or a kudo.


	5. Oasis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malic helps Jamie at the shop and they spend some time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry this has taken so long, but school has started up again and I've been bogged down. So I'm switching to trying to upload every Saturday.
> 
> If you like this chapter, leave a kudo or a comment, if you want to have a chat find me on my Tumblr (https://writtenstuffandthings.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

I hopped on my bike for the third time in the past week, yet again going to the small antique store that I’ve become so accustomed to. Ever since I went to help out there last week it’s become our main way of hanging out. It wasn’t public enough for us to worry about the paparazzi and since it is an antique store a lot of the people that come in don’t really care about who I am. It was our perfect, private, sepia-toned oasis.

I felt the wind gently lick at my ears as I increased my speed. The cityscape around me is a truly mystifying sight. Every building was so grand in it’s exterior that you begin to miss the smaller intricacies. I guess that’s something I appreciate about the smaller, hole-in-the-wall buildings. They present themselves as nothing special, but that only makes every spectacular nuance more appreciated. It’s how I feel about Jamie’s shop, from the brass gables holding the awning to the rusted doorknob, everything is perfect.

I park my bike out front, setting the lock in its place, and push open the door. I hear the familiar twinkle of the tin bell that hangs above, signaling my entrance.

“Hello, I’ll be right with you,” I hear Jamie call from the back.

“It’s me,” I reply. He pokes his head out of the entrance to the shop’s storeroom. I walk towards the counter, running my finger along a shelf.

“Oh, I didn’t expect you so early.” He walks to the front side of the counter and leans back on it. He’s wearing overalls and holy shit HE'S WEARING OVERALLS AND LOOKS ADORABLE. He notices my starring, “You like,” he says jokingly with a smirk.

“Yes,” He blushes. I walk up to him and kiss the top of his head, which makes him blush even more.

“No fair,” He whines.

I smirk, “So what are my duties today, chief.”

“Well, I was organizing some boxes in the back, do you mind helping me finish with that?”

“No problem.” He leads me to the back, suddenly I am surrounded by metal shelves with miscellaneous boxes and items. “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever been allowed back here.”

“I know, I feel like it destroys the magic.”

“I don’t know, it gives new appreciation to the amount of shit you have to sort through,” I said while chuckling.

“You got that right, so can you just try and take those boxes,” he points to a pile of cardboard, “and place them, label forward, on the shelves.” I nod.

“So do you have plans tomorrow,” I ask as I grab a box labeled “Refurbishment Supplies.”

“Not really, I just have to do an hour or two of store work and then I’m free. Why?”

“I don’t know, was just wondering if you wanted to do something,” I turned to him. 

He smiled, “Yeah, I would like that, what do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know, there’s a trampoline place a little outside of town.” I smiled as I saw his eyes light up.

“Really, I haven’t been to one of those.”

“If you want,” I smile as I slide another box into its place on the shelf.

“Wait, but what about the paparazzi, isn’t that a little public.”

I raise an eyebrow, “What paparazzi is going to be searching for adult stars at a kids trampoline center?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, paparazzi is weird.”

“True, but I have a guy that can send them on a wild goose chase.”

He practically drops the box he’s carrying, “That’s a real thing.”

I laugh at his open mouth, “We just tip them that I’m somewhere else, and hope they don’t pick up on it until I’m long gone.”

He holds his head in his hands, “God, you famous people are so cool.”

I chuckle but return to moving boxes.

“Hey,” he starts.

“Yeah,” I turn to him to see him with the cheekiest grin on his face.

“You’re hot.”

I stand there for a couple seconds before I start laughing, “What was that?” 

“I don’t know,” he says, also laughing.

“You’re so weird,” I say as I keep laughing. But as we calm down and look at each other, we start laughing even harder. Soon we are two bumbling messes as we cling to each other for support.

“I felt like it needed to be said,” he said wiping tears from his eyes.

“Well, the same goes for you, obviously.”

Jamie shakes his head, still recovering from laughter.

“What do you think I’m joking,” I asked, tilting my head to the side.

“Yes,” he said smugly.

I smiled, “Well you’re wrong,” I said walking forward and pressing him to my chest, “Cause I wouldn’t want to kiss you if you weren’t.”

I could see the blush almost instantly it was so bright. He practically backward sprinted out of my arms with his hands covering his now red face. He runs himself into a shelf. I almost laugh, but an already precariously placed box on the top shelf is now definitely tipping.

“JAMIE,” I shout as I grab his arm and whip him out of the way. The box smashes on the ground and papers fly everywhere. I turn my attention back to him, “Are you okay?” I quickly brush my hands down his face, trying to feel for any injuries.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” his voice was a little shaky from, you know, almost being hit in the head with an apparently heavy box of papers and files, “Thank you, for that.”

“No problem, I kind of caused it so it's fitting,” I nervously chuckle and direct my gaze to the mass of papers, ”Sorry about that.”

“Oh it’s okay,” he goes over to start picking up papers. I go to help but he stops me, “No please, it’s okay.” The defensive tone of his voice makes me back away.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m s-,” just then the bell over the door rings, “I’ll get them.” I watch him leave the back and greet the customer.

As soon as I can’t see him I move to the paper pile. I know it’s wrong but I have to know, I don’t know why but I hate the idea of him feeling like he needs to hide something from me.

Okay, so papers, shipments, purchases, and… what’s this? Last month’s income for Jamie. I shouldn’t, but...

No

Yes

No

Okay, just a peek.

He makes… $1255 for the entire month. That’s hardly enough to have food for the month, let alone pay bills. I had no idea, is business bad? Where is last month’s? Not this one, not this one, this one. He made, only $1300. Why didn’t I know, I thought business was okay, why wouldn’t he tell me?

“Malic?” I hear a voice behind me.

I whip around to see Jamie in the doorway, I quickly drop the papers and stand up, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to.” I keep my eyes on the floor, “I was just curious and I found the income papers and I… I’m sorry.”

He sighs, “It’s okay, you would’ve found out eventually. Not a lot of people nowadays really care about antiques like I do. And I hate to say it but this store isn’t really making enough to be feasible to stay. I don’t have enough money to advertise, and even if I could I doubt it would do much.”

“Jamie, why didn’t you tell me.”

“I don’t know, I guess I was just a little self-conscious. I mean here you are, being able to afford fancy cars and nice resturants and I can barely afford to eat something fancier than ramen for dinner.”

“You know I couldn’t think badly of you if I tried,” I pull him into an embrace, “This doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

He buries his head in the crook of my neck, “It just sucks because this is my dream, this is all I really want. It just seems that nobody else wants my dream.”

“I’m sure people do, you just haven’t had your break.” He sighs into me as I start rubbing circles in his back. “Do you need anything.”

“If you’re offering me money I don’t want it.”

“I figured you wouldn’t. But anything else.”

“No, just hold me, please.”

“Gladly.”

There is something I appreciate about smaller, hole in the wall places. They present themselves as nothing special, but that only makes every spectacular nuance more appreciated. It’s how I feel about Jamie’s shop, from the brass gables holding the awning to the rusted doorknob. From the glass counter to the dusty back room filled with boxes and shelves. 

There is something I appreciate about people like Jamie. They present themselves as nothing special, but that only makes ever spectacular intricacy more appreciated. The way his hair flops effortlessly to one side, to the way his wardrobe compliments his shop. From the way he can go from bubbly to heartfelt, serious to caring, flustered too emotional. The way his eyes sparkle when he’s excited, the way he shrinks when he’s ashamed, the way he glitters when he struts and flutters when he falls. 

The way he let me hold him, in the dusty, box-filled backroom of a dim shop filled with rusted toys. Hidden away from paparazzi, in our perfect, private, sepia-toned

 

 

**Oasis**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed leave a kudo and a comment, if not tell me how I can improve.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	6. Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A picture leaks and Malic and Jamie learn to deal with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, whoever is reading this. I hope you enjoy the chapter, if you did please leave a comment or a kudo, I would love to interact with everyone. Hope you enjoy!

I dropped the plate I was holding, “What do you mean there are pictures,” It clattered on the ground, “Why can’t we get a hold of them,” Jamie turned his head to watch me, “Which magazines?”

My knees buckled, and I slid down to the ground, my back against the kitchen island. I set my phone face down on the ground, the cabinet in front of me fading in and out of focus. I faintly hear Jamie set down whatever utensil he was cooking with and gracefully move to my side.

“Hey, hey,” he says meekly, hand moving to hold the side of my face, “What’s wrong.” I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I promised I could stop this from happening, I promised I would protect him, I promised and I lied.

I feel him shift to the front of me, so we are looking each other in the eyes. My vision gets more and more blurred as they begin to swim, and he throws himself around me placing me in a much-needed embrace. I wrap my arms around him, on the verge of sobbing, and bury my head into his shoulder. 

“Whatever it is, I’m here with you,” He says into my neck.

“I fucked up,” I mumble, “I fucked it up.”

“I’m still here,” he sighed.

I shook my head, “You’ll hate me.”

He pulls away and looks me in the eyes, “You know that’s not true,” My eyes find the floor, “Shit, Malic I’ve been here through secret meetups and hiding my car in a fucking bush for what, almost two months now. You should know that I’m serious about this.”

“Everything will change.”

“Malic.”

“I’m scared.”

“Malic please,” He gently pressed his lips to my forehead, “Tell me what’s wrong and breathe, I’m not going to leave. Just please, tell me what’s wrong so I can help you.”

“They found out,” I say meekly, focusing on my knees.

“Who’s they?”

“The,” He’ll hate you, ”They are,” You promised you wouldn’t let this happen.

I see him sitting there, on his knees, right in front of me. His eyes wide with worry and fear, and sadness. It’s subtle but it’s there, hidden behind the emerald irises. His hands are clenching and unclenching, or tapping rhythms into his legs, a nervous tick I’ve picked up on over the past month or so.

If you really think about it, we’ve been doing well to not have the paparazzi find out for close to two months. Don’t get me wrong, they still found me, but typically just me at my house, or me in Beverly Hills or somewhere fancy. But with Jamie and I spending close to five days a week together it’s really shocking that no picture of us had ever been shown publicly. To be fair, we’d been very careful. We only met in his store, Jamie’s apartment, and as of recently, my house. Either I ride my bike to his place or he brings a car to my place and parks it behind a hedge close to my house. Most dates were us making some food and eating in the privacy of a home. We could never go outside together, we had to leave places five minutes from one another, but the lack of Hollywood’s favorite playboy dating anyone for the tabloids only increased the paparazzi's tenacity. 

Soon they were arriving down the street, in my neighborhood. They moved in packs, they came in cars, they were in cahoots with one another, everyone sharing information on my location, status, situation. They started running at me, sprinting to get within range with their microphones or snap a non-blurry picture with their cameras, and of course, they got a few. Hell some of them even had Jamie in them, I just had the foresight to move far enough away from him so it didn’t seem suspicious. It was painful, the running, the stress, and having to pretend like I didn’t care about Jamie. 

I could tell Jamie was trying to not seem bothered. He understood the situation, and he was all smiles and “no worries” when I apologized, but every time I moved away or ran away or pushed him aside I could see him sink. It felt like shit to watch, and to know I had caused it, but I knew he wouldn’t want his face out there. I didn’t want him to have to lead the life I lead, I wanted to protect him. I tried to protect him.

And yet, here I was, sitting on the floor of my kitchen to scared to tell Jamie that we had been found out. That a picture of us was already being printed on the front cover of at least twenty different magazine publications. That we were holding hands, that the covers had made up a full romantic tale that was completely false or that they were catapulting off of the fact that I had just been publicly outed to ninety percent of the west coast and in the next couple of weeks ninety percent of the country. That he would be followed. That we would be watched.

That there was nothing I could do. 

“Malic, please tell me,” He looked so worried, for me. So scared, for me.

“Jamie,” I move my gaze to him, “The magazines, they know. They got a picture of us, as a couple.”

His eyes widen for a moment, but quickly reverts back to his previous emotion, “Okay.”

“No it’s not, I said I would stop it, I told you I could.”

“It’s out of your hands, I understand,” He moves to grab my hands, which had clenched a lot.

“I should’ve tried harder.”

“I’m okay, Malic.”

“I should’ve tried harder.”

“Malic, it’s okay.”

“I should’ve tri-”

“Malic,” Jamie shouts, “What’s wrong, this doesn’t have to be a bad thing.” I pause, “I’m not mad, I’m not worried, sure it may be shit but listen to me. We have no more secrets, no more running, no more staying five feet apart, no more parking in fucking bushes. I mean, shit, you don’t have to fake date women anymore. And I know it’s scary, to be outed to everyone, and it’s shitty and fucked up and I swear to god we will not stop fighting the media until this is regulated but think of what this can do for us.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Not at you, of course not,” He grabs my shoulders, “Malic, please, don’t blame yourself.”

“But it’s because of me that you have to deal with all this shit.”

“Yes,” he scoots closer, “But it’s also because of you that I can get all of my work done, and eat a nice dinner, and cuddle on a couch and watch movies,” He pushes his forehead on mine.

I feel a smirk creep onto my face, “Not fair, those are all good things.”

“Well you are a good thing,” He presses his lips to mine, “Mostly.”

“Hey,” I half-heartedly shove him, only managing to make him sway.

“Fine, you want some bad things,” I nod, “It’s because of you that I get very easily distracted from my work, it’s because of you that I feel sad when I don’t have you next to me at night, and it’s because of you that I feel cared for.”

“What happened to them being bad things,” I leaned in closer.

“I couldn’t think of three.” He shrugged. I grabbed his face and moved it forward to connect our lips. We moved in sync, standing up yet still keeping our lips connected.

I pulled away and placed my hands on his hips, he cocked his head in curiosity. I grabbed on his hips and lifted him over my shoulder, eliciting a yelp from Jamie.

“Hey, let me down,” he said while chuckling, playfully kicking and pounding like a small child. 

“Never,” I yelled as I spun around in circles, listening to Jamie and I laugh and scream. I chassed over to the couch, flinging him onto his back. I flopped down and placed my hands on his wrists, pinning them over his head.

“Hey,” he says with a smile and tears of laughter in his eyes.

“Hey,” I said looking down at his… goddamn, his face is perfect, “You’re pretty.”

His smile strangely faltered for a second, but he regained his composure quickly, “No, you are.”

“Hey, are you okay,” I ask, still fixated on the moment before.

“Fine,” He said with a smile.

“You sure.”

“Yes,” he nodded, “No can you kiss me before I have an aneurysm because of, " he pauses, using his eyes to gesture to the scene around him.

“Deal,” I leaned down and yet again connected our lips.

I felt my hands go to his face, the laced behind his ears. I felt his hands travel to my back, running down as we kissed.

He moved his mouth to my cheek, causing me to gasp at the shift. It put me in the perfect position to attack his neck. I heard him whimper, but I didn’t stop. We were both too caught up in the moment everything that we had been doing earlier this evening. 

We both reverted back to each other’s lips. We just kissed and kept each other close. He tasted so sweet, so enticing, so much like…

SHIT, THE FOOD WE WERE MAKING.

I pulled away from him, making Jamie jump at the rapid movement, “The food,” I see his eyes widen and we both jump up off the couch and run to the kitchen. I flip off the stove and check the pasta dish we had been making, overcooked. Jamie checked on the sauce, a little overheated, but we could save it for later.

“Fuck,” he said, running his hand through his hair and laughing. I look at him, feeling myself start to chuckle as well.

“Sorry, I guess I initiated that,” I say, placing my head in my hands, “Do you want to just order pizza or something?”

“Yeah, that would be nice.” 

As I picked up the phone and dialed the pizza place, I watched Jamie walk to the couch and pull up Netflix. I guess we’re going to have a chill night, the possibility of a kitchen fire sort of killed the mood.

I walked over to behind where he was sitting on the couch, wrapping my arms around him and resting my chin on his hair, “Pizza should be here in twenty.”

“Okay,” he scooted over and I jumped over the couch and sat down next to him. He laid his head on my lap and I begin carding my hands through his hair. “Malic, are we going to be okay.”

“What do you mean?”

“If the magazines make a big deal about you being gay, and it goes bad, what happens to me.”

“I stick by you, through thick and thin.”

He turns and looks up at me, “Why?”

I touch his cheek, “Because I love you.”

His eyes light up, and a small smile creeps onto his face, “I love you too.”

I lift his head off my lap, and turn and lay on my side behind him, gently spooning him. It was sweet, it was cozy, it was…

 

 

 

**Warm.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed feel free to leave a comment, I would love to hear your thoughts.


	7. Decrescendo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red carpet, flashing cameras, and adorable boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've been enjoying please leave a comment and let me know, if you wanna have a chat, find me on Tumblr at https://writtenstuffandthings.tumblr.com/

The stifled percussion of my fingers nervously tapping on my knees was only barely audible over the gentle groan of the car's wheels as the traversed the cities streets. I repeat the already worn routine of smoothing out the non-existent creases in my dress pants and fixing the bowtie the was carefully tied around my neck for what must be the umpteenth time. I, so far removed from my normally cool composure, turn to my driver, “How much longer?”

“About a minute, sir,” I nod in response and turn my gaze back to trying to still the already placid sea of gray fabric. I’m not normally this nervous about red carpet events, I mean in all honesty it’s just a big gala with people that I work with. This time is special though, as with Jamie and I now being public we decided it would be best to attend the event together, rather than keeping our companionship unconfirmed on the side of the accused parties. The media first nabbed our photo about three months ago, and while it sucked then, it really was a blessing in disguise. We weren’t as secretive about meeting, which made everything more convenient. We also grew a lot closer, it was our first real struggle in the relationship, and it made us realize that us being together isn’t going to be easy.

Learning Jamie is like reading a textbook. You can look at it once and get a general picture, but if you want to understand it better you need to take a bit of a longer look. And when you pick up on what you think to be the major points, they are never the ones that are on the test. You need to read his every line, his every word, every picture, just to get everything you can from it. 

Although there is one other very large similarity between textbooks and Jamie.

They’re always right.

Before I continue my train of thought, we turn a corner and I see my stylist and my manager standing next to Jamie in a tux. I knew they were meeting up with him to get him ready, but I didn’t expect him to look this damn good. My manager said he would be prepping Jamie on the do’s and don’ts of the famous world, and my stylist would get him red carpet ready. 

He looks ready for more than a red carpet. And let's be honest, that suit makes him look super s-

No, no dirty thoughts before an event, there will be cameras and sexy thoughts and people with cameras is a seriously bad combo.

As the car comes to a stop next to the group I can truly examine Jamie, mainly his face. I’ve never seen him so terrified. He looks scared shitless, to put it mildly. I open my door and he steps in, my manager and stylist wait outside, “He okay,” I ask them.

“Yeah, I just gave him the run down, he’s worried he’ll mess up,” She states.

I chuckle, glancing at Jamie, who is focused on his knees, “Aren’t we all?”

She nods, turning her attention to the both of us, “You two have fun and try not to put yourself in any compromising situations, you’ll have a lot of eyes on you, so be careful.”

I nod, “Thank you.” I shut the door and adjust myself so I’m close to Jamie, “You okay?” He swallows and nods, not daring to vocalize anything. “So that’s a no then,” I infer.

“What if I mess up? I have all these new rules to follow and I’m nervous.” His breathing pattern noticeable shifts to a more frantic pace.

“So what’s a little bit of bad press gonna do to us, we’ve been dating for five months, I’m pretty sure I’m not going to dump you for not looking cute in a picture.” He leans his head on my shoulder and grabs my hand, “Then again, it really depends on how bad the picture is,” I joke.

Although he playfully hits my arm, I could feel his body tense against mine. He chuckles, trying to move on, “So what’s the rundown of the evening like for us?”

“First we have the red carpet, then some talking with an open bar, then we leave.”

“That’s it?”

“You clearly don’t know how much time these things take,” I laugh, “We’ll be there for a couple hours.”

His face drops a little, “Okay.”

“We can leave a little early if you want to,” I offer.

“No, I’ll be okay.”

I place my hand on his knee, “You don’t need to worry, okay.”

He shudders a little at my words, “But I do, what about the cameras.”

“I,” I point to myself dramatically, “Am not a camera. I don't care what you do or look like out there.”

“Yeah, but what if the public hates me, and then you can’t be public about this without getting attacked,” He starts to ramble.

“Hey,” I stop him, “They will love you, trust me.”

“But…”

“No but’s, you’re adorable, and sweet, and have a beautiful smile, you’re everything the media wants,” he scoffs, “Trust me, I’ve been in the business since I was born.”

He nods, “So what will happen when we get there.”

“Well, I will be asked to take a bunch of photos, and probably have a couple of interviewers steal me away for some questions, and as for you I think that they will just let you pass through.”

He nods, “Okay,” he wrings out his fingers, “I just hope I can sneak through everyone without being too much of a sight.”

I nod, “We’ll see, but be prepared for them wanting some pictures of us together.”

He nods once again, and before he can add anything onto the conversation our chauffeur breaks in, “Sir, we have arrived.” I look out the window, and sure enough, we had been stopped in the roundabout like street filled with fancy cars filled with stars, all exiting towards a dramatic walkway covered with white cloth and a very recognizable carpet.

“Thank you, will you be waiting for us,” he nods, “Alright, you ready Jamie.” He looks ungodly pale.

“I’m not sure,” I smile softly, gently pressing a soft yet passionate kiss on his lips. I pull away, looking at his fucking unfairly gorgeous face, now bright red.

Well, I guess I fixed the paleness issue.

“Let’s go,” I say as I pop open my door and step out, extending my hand to help Jamie out of the car. He takes my hand and joins me by my side. 

Shutting the door and walking towards the epicenter of the glamour and talent in this town is the moment when what we’re doing truly sets in on me. I, a supposedly straight until three months ago male, am going to a huge event with cameras and interviewers with my boyfriend. I, the man listed as America’s most lusted after man by Vogue, am going to a huge event, preparing to confirm all of the tabloids accusations. I, the man with uncountable fan accounts run by little girls sharing creepy fantasies and pictures of me, am about to confirm the rumors they have been so vehemently denying.

And I am so happy to be doing it. So happy to finally be able to scream from the fucking mountain tops that Jamie is my boyfriend and we kiss and fuck do all the things that lovers do. It’s exhilarating and makes me feel sick and giddy all at the same time.

Jamie, in all of his nervous-wreck self, is a little less visibly jazzed about this whole scenario. I let my hand slide into his, it seems to comfort him a little.

“Malic,” He asks as if he needs confirmation that I’m next to him.

“Yes?”

“Stay with me.”

“Okay,” I say as I squeeze his hand lightly. 

The bright, flashing lights of the cameras grow ever more apparent as we enter the front of the venue. Before either of us had time to respond we had two men at our sides, ushering us to a sort of line filled with people waiting to enter the red carpet circuit. I look back at Jamie, seeing the worry slowly return to his face, “Hey, it’s just pictures, we take those all the time.” He nods, exhaling and wringing his wrists out.

Before long we had made it to the front of the line. We move onto the carpet, as a pair, ready to face the cameras.

What we weren’t ready for was for cameramen from farther down the carpet to run over to where we were standing and start taking as many photos as they could. I looked over to Jamie, finding him flashing one of the most photogenic smiles I have ever seen. Apparently, my manager was serious about getting him ready for the carpet. I smiled as well, facing the cameras and wrapping my arm around Jamie’s waist, relishing the feeling of him leaning into me.

“Excuse me,” one of the front cameramen says to me. Thinking he was trying to get my attention I smile for his camera, “Uh, sorry, can we get a couple of just your, uh, friend.” I feel my face flush and hold back a retort to him calling Jamie my “friend.” I turn back to Jamie, and after some reluctance, he nods, to which I slide out of the frame leaving him without twenty or so adults armed with cameras.

“Malic,” I hear a women shout from beside me. I whip around to see a reporter, “Mind if I ask you a few questions”

“No, not at all,” I say as I walk over to her.

“So,” she says, suddenly putting on a very peppy, energetic voice, “Are you excited for tonight's events?”

I return her cheeriness, “Oh absolutely, so many wonderful people from the industry here tonight.”

A couple of filler questions follow, of which I go into autopilot mode in favor of watching Jamie in the reflection of the camera lens. He seems to be doing okay, he got a couple of interviewers attention and was taking turns answering their questions.”

“-you want to disprove,” I hear her ask.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that one?”

“You brought the man that the media has been labeling your boyfriend for a few months now, do you have any rumors you want to disprove,” I could sense the slight edging in her voice like she wanted me to say, “Oh absolutely.”

“Actually, no, the ‘man’ is Jamie, who is my date tonight.” I got a little bit of satisfaction at watching her comically smiley face falter a little. “Well that’s all the time I have, it was nice talking to you,” I wave as I walk away. I move over towards Jamie, who seemed to have rapidly deteriorated from the last time I saw him, “What happened?”

“They kept asking me stuff about you, and us, and I didn’t know how to answer,” He’s breathing a little quicker than normal.

“Like what?”

“They started by asking me about the picture, and you taking me here, so I just said that I was your date for tonight, then they started asking me all of this stuff about you. If you were really gay, if you would still date women. I said I couldn’t answer those, so they started asking me stuff like if you were good at sex or your dick size, and I didn’t know how to answer,” he places his head in his hand.

“I’m sorry baby,” I hug him, ignoring the sudden surge in camera clicks surrounding us, “Since I’m viewed as this big playboy, it’s sadly my brand, they sell me a little as a sex symbol. Alisha was supposed to prepare you for this shit, I guess we both didn’t think you would be as popular as you are,” I chuckle, “You’re doing amazing though.”

He scoffs, “Sure doesn’t feel like it.”

“Nope, but that’s just Hollywood in general,” we both smirk, looking at one another, “Is there anything you need.”

“Can we try to stick with each other from now on?”

“Of course,” I smile, and we begin to walk towards the second half of the carpet.

The second half of the carpet is always the equivalent of being kicked when you’re already down, it’s where they shove the interviewers and the cameramen that aren’t part of multi-million dollar corporations. It’s more of the people’s area, a lot of times fans can get into that area, just to watch the proceedings of the stars. 

You would think that they would be nicer, but nope, they’re vicious. The second half of the carpet is like being covered in meat perfume and thrown into a lion's den. Everyone wants your attention first, so whoever gets it gets their scoop out first and sells better.

We walk through the divider, arm in arm, hand in hand. We opened the floodgates. More photographers then I have ever had on me swarmed the railing dividing the civilians from us. Screams and shouts of our name desperately trying to get us to look at them over all of the others. A blinding wall of flashes and clicks and strobes, a wall so stupefying that we could only pose and smile in its presence. It was truly overwhelming.

I pulled at Jamie’s arm and started walking further down the carpet, trying to break away from the trance the cameras had put us in. Interviewers spoke to us, but everything was really just second-nature at this point. It was a very stark opposition to Jamie constantly looking like he was about to step on a landmine. He was learning how to navigate the circuit, and it’s really hard for anyone. 

I worry when I realize we are going to enter the area filled with fans more so than people working for companies. This is always the worst section for me since I was marketed as a sex symbol these sections are filled with fans of mine that are so ready to flop at my feet that it’s physically disgusting and demoralizing. I just want to shout back at them, “You’re fucking thirteen, go away,” but alas, my manager would kill me.

Jamie notices my fear, “Your manager told me about this part, she said that they wouldn’t be nice.”

“That’s an understatement, just get ready to do a lot of waving and hear a lot of screaming,” I say smiling, desperately trying to lighten the mood. “You ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” he grabs my hand as we start walking forward. 

We enter the room and the screaming starts, but it’s a little more varied than I remember. It started off with the typical fangirl screams, then it shifted to confusion, and then to “Aww” ing. A lot of the crowd started to get out cameras, to which we posed and smiled.

That’s when two girls arguing in the corner caught my attention.

“What are you talking about?”

“I said he should stop faking gay.”

My heart stops, and I feel Jamie’s defensive grip on my hand.

“What the fuck,” another girl chimes in, “He’s not faking.”

I start to motion Jamie away, but we move reluctantly, curious to hear how it goes.

“Yes he is, there is no way he is a fag,” A loud chorus of gasps follows I start to move, but Jamie makes direct eye contact with the girl and I can feel the anger radiating off of him.

“Plus,” she continues, looking at Jamie and raising her voice so everyone could hear, “If he was gay, he wouldn’t waste his time on that boy toy.”

Shit. I grab Jamie’s arm as all hell breaks out in the crowd and drag him far away as fast as I can. The camera noises swell to a new height, a disastrous crescendo signifying the distress of the scene prior. I pull Jamie into an unseen corner, safe from people, civilian and media alike. We stand together, trying to ignore the noise that still persisted throughout the venue of screaming and cameras.

“Jamie,” I say, touching his slumped shoulders, “Look at me.” He looks up at me slowly, small tears in the corners of his eyes. I hug him tightly, “None of this is your fault, okay.”

He burrows himself into my chest, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“That scene back there, I got carried away, and look where it landed us,” He smiles as a single tear runs down his cheek.

“No, you did fine, you tried to defend me, and for that, I thank you,” I place a chaste kiss to his forehead.

He started to let more tears run down his face, but kept smiling, “Goddamnit, why am I crying.”

“You’re overwhelmed, sweetie.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Maybe a bit.”

“Do you want to go home, the important part is kinda of over.”

“Didn’t you want to stay”

“I will go wherever you go,” I hold his hands in mine.

“No, I don’t want to ruin your fun, plus I made it this far.”

“You sure,” I ask.

“I’m sure,” he nods. He starts to walk out of the corner.

I grab his wrist, “Jamie,” I say, getting his attention, “You know what she said isn’t true right?”

He smiles, “Let’s go.” To which he drags me out of the corner back to the gala hall. The red carpet incident soon fades into the back of my mind as the alcohol flows and more and more of my friends come and introduce themselves to Jamie.

Everyone is so complimentary of us as a couple, and a fair few of the A-list celebrities hit it off with him. Colleagues of mine are finally sharing drinks with me, not the person with the fake girlfriends or the fake me that existed before I met Jamie. He brings out the best in me by bringing me out.

Before long, the event is ending and we are all shuffling out of the large building. We make our way to the parking lot and find our driver, we follow him to the car and hop in the back seat.

The ride home is long and quiet, it seemed almost eerie. But it was way out of either of our ability to make a sound, the entire evening had been filled with it, and we needed a moment to recuperate.

When we arrived back at my house it was around one o’clock. We pushed through my door and wordlessly changed into comfortable clothes and flopped onto the couch. We kind of just rolled around there until we made our way into cuddling positions, with me laying on my back and Jamie laying his head on my chest.

“Malic,” Jamie asks, checking to see if I was still awake.

“Yeah,” I answer.

“Thank you, for tonight.”

“Why,” I question, “I gave you an evening where you got called names, harassed by interviewers, and cried. You shouldn’t be thanking me.”

“Thank you for letting me be your boyfriend.”

I was shocked for a moment, “There is no need to thank me, you make my life better.”

He sighs into my chest.

“Are you okay,” I ask, “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he dismisses.

“Jamie,” I whine.

“Malic,” he returns, “It was just a thought, forget I said anything.”

Instead of answering I begin to card my fingers through his hair, he pushes his face further into my chest and I can feel his body relax.

The sound in the room dies, more and more. As if the entire night, from the carpet to the couch, was all one long

 

 

 

**Decrescendo**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed leave a comment, I'd love to hear what you thought, if you want to have a chat find me on Tumblr.


	8. Carousel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A public fair provides some interesting introspections and some wonderful bonding time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy, if so please leave a comment or a kudo, if not feel free to leave any criticism in the comments, all feedback is welcome.

A merry-go-round is, in all honesty, a rather vicious entertainment device. People sit or stand on a turntable constantly being pulled towards the edge. Everytime you slip or slide you move closer to the circumference, and the farther you move out the more intensely the forces pull on you. It's a rickety turntable, one that has become a staple of amusement parks, that desperately tries to make you lose control.

But, no matter how rough, how rowdy, how vicious the turmoil of gravity and forces are on your body, they don’t show it. Bright lights and organ fanfare flowing between delicately crafted horses and carriages create a beautiful scene. The flash, the delicacy, the vintage flair that shows that what was once created with unique antiquity has now fallen into a routine of using charms and beauty to hide the turbulent vortex that lives inside.

A merry-go-round is the first sight I notice as I walk into the autumn fair with Jamie at my side, although it may not be the most memorable. Nor were the glittering booths with colorful toys. Nor were the wild, spinning death machines that people call rides. Nor were the performers, or the balloons, or the people.

No, it was Jamie.

Jamie was by far the most gorgeous thing at the fair. His jacket, his shirt, his jeans, his shoes. He looked far too adorable to be real. His light wash blue jeans, his white shirt, his washed out pink bomber jacket, and the fucking flower crown that sat so perfectly upon his head.

And his head, his hair, his face. The glasses he wore, the lights reflecting off of his cheeks, the glint in his eyes. Everything is perfect. He is perfect.

It had been a week since the red carpet event, and while it was such a blessing that Jamie and I didn’t have to hide as much, it also kind of sucked that I had to share him with the rest of the world. But I still, at least, got the private moments. I got to see the movies with him, I got to watch as he slept on my lap, when he read books with his chunky reading glasses, when he tended his store.

Speaking of his store, business has been a little more hectic. By no means was it too much to handle, but due to creepy, sleuthy fans and their weird internet magic that had found the location of his store. Everything was shifting, and it was a welcome change.

“Malic,” Jamie nudged my arm, “What do we do?”

“What do you mean,” I chuckle.

“I mean what do we do here?”

“Have you never been to a fair?”

“Do you forget that my hometown had all of eighteen people in it,” he smiled, slightly cocking his head.

“Right,” I clasp my hands together, “Well the games are rigged and the rides are pricey.”

“So where does that leave us.”

“Food?” I offer.

He nods, “Food.”

As soon as we broke our gazes and the dirt and straw mixture of the empty lot began to crunch under our feet we were suddenly surrounded by a large group of screaming figures.

“OMG, It’s Malic”

“Holy shit get a picture.”

Shit, too public, too soon. I need to move, now. I try to grab Jamie’s hand but I notice he is being pushed away from me. After a few more desperate attempts to reach him he is thrown out of the circle.

“Enough,” I yell, suddenly enraged by their rough treatment of Jamie. The quickly stopped talking, “If you want a picture you can ask politely, but swarming me is unacceptable. How dare you, I’m a person, just like you, on a personal outage. This is not a photo shoot.”

 They all stay silent until a girl in front of me looked down at her feet, “I’m sorry.”

Before angrily responding I took a deep breath, releasing all of my anger, “It’s okay, just please don’t do that, to any celebrity, or anyone you look up to.”

She silently nods. I can’t help but feel a little bad, she obviously likes me enough to swarm me with her friends.

“Hey,” I offer, “Do you guys want a picture.” She looks up happily, then quickly nods. We move into a position where we are all lined up, and one of the teens steps out to take the picture. 

“Say cheese.”

“Cheese,” we all say, before a familiar camera click, and they all scatter to look at the picture.

That’s when the girl walks back to me, “I’m really sorry about how we acted,” she looked down, “but thank you for taking a picture with us.”

“It’s okay,” I smile, “You probably haven’t had many experiences with celebrities. Just remember we’re people too, okay.” She nods and then scurries back to her group.

I hope she learned her lesson. Sadly there are a lot of people who still need to learn that lesson. From crazy fans to that crazy girl from the red carpet, they still exist quite prevalently. 

Jamie, I totally forgot about Jamie. I whirl around making a quick turn scanning the fair around me, abruptly stopping when I see him sitting on a bench twiddling his thumbs. I begin to walk towards him.

“Hey,” I say as I approach, he looks up at me which makes me stop. His face is smudged with dirt, his jacket as well. His flower crown is ever so slightly tilted on his head and his hair is a little messier. “Goddamnit.”

“What,” he asks.

“You go roughhoused by that group,” I growl, “They shouldn’t have done that.”

“Hey, hey,” He cups my face, “Don’t get mad, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes,” he smiles, “I’m okay, it's not a big deal.”

“I respectfully disagree. They threw you away,” I place a chaste kiss to his forehead, “And you don’t deserve that.” He looks down, I don’t miss the subtle clench of his fists. I hold his hands, “You okay?”

He looks back up and nods, “Just hungry.”

“Then let’s go get some funnel cake.”

We move through the rows of tents and lights and rides, giddy with the infectious joy that infected us. From music to sweets to games, every piece exudes nostalgia and fun.

After a quick purchase of a funnel cake, we find a table in the area.

“How do I eat this,” Jamie mutters, practically salivating over the powdered sugar-covered delight.

“Damn, I wish you would look at me like you look at that funnel cake.” I watched the blush quickly spread across his face. He let his face fall into his hands and then screeching into them. I laugh.

“It’s not funny.” He pouted, still blushing profusely.

“Oh right right, totally not funny,” I said, struggling to retain my composure, before breaking back into laughter.

“Hey,” Jamie says, laughing as well. “But seriously, how am I even supposed to eat something like this.”

“Well there is a bit of a process with funnel cake,” I said, hoping that my acting experience will save me, “You first have to put your hands behind your back and take the first bite like you are bobbing for apples.”

“You’re joking right,” he says, deadpanned.

“No,” I manage to keep my composure, “Do it, trust me it’s fun and it tastes amazing.”

“Fine,” He said, reluctantly placing his hands behind his back and bending his head forwards until it is about to hit the plate. He then struggles to maneuver his mouth at the right angle to get a bite in his mouth.

Quickly he pulls back, with whipped cream and powdered sugar dusted on his nose, and I lose it. I bust out laughing as he sits there stunned and confused.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

“That wasn’t really a tradition was it.”

“Nope.”

He pauses for a second, “I’m not even mad cause it tastes really good.”

I slowly regain my composure, calming down from my laughter fit, “You look really cute like that.” And it was true. His flower crown very slightly crooked, his nose dotted with whipped cream, smiling just a little.

“No.” He looks away.

“But you do,” I say walking over and sitting down beside him on the bench.

“Don’t do this,” He says, half-jokingly.

“You always look cute though,” I say as I use my napkin to wipe the food off of his nose.

“Malic,”

“Your flower crown is cute.”

“Malic,”

“And your clothes are cute.”

“Malic, stop.”

“And your face is cute.”

“Malic,” He says raising his voice, “Please, stop.”

I stop my tangent and see the distressed look on his face. His gorgeous eyes lost in thought. “Hey,”

“I’m fine.”

“No you're not, is something wrong?”

He shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” I say, holding his hands.

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“I hurt you, so yes I do.”

He leans his head into my chest, “Then I accept.”

“Can I tell you something,” I begin.

“Yeah,” he says, turning to me.

“I love you,” I say. Such a romantic place to say that, in a dirty carnival, but somehow it couldn’t be more perfect.

He takes a deep breathe, “I-I love you too.”

I gently press my lips to his, a short, tender kiss.

It’s all just too sweet, but maybe that’s the funnel cake.

“Hey,” I hear him murmur.

“Yeah,”

“Can we at least ride one ride while we’re here.”

I roll my eyes, “We just said ‘I love you’ and that’s what you’re thinking about.”

He shrugs, “I just want the full fair experience.”

“Fine, what do you want to ride?”

He takes a quick glance around before pointing at the Carousel, “That one.”

I smile, “Fine let’s get in line.”

A relationship is, in all honesty, a rather vicious entertainment device. People work with one another while constantly being pulled to the edge of a breakup. Every time you fight you move closer to that end, and the farther you go the more you are pulled to its untimely death. It's a rickety turntable, one that has become a staple of life, that desperately tries to make you lose control.

But there is something about Jamie, that no matter how rough, how rowdy, how vicious the turmoil of emotions and publicity can be on him, he doesn’t show it. Bright eyes and soft voices flowing through delicately crafted sentences create a beautiful scene. The flash, the delicacy, the vintage flair that shows that what was once a normal town boy has now fallen into a routine of fighting off a newfound attention and the emotions it subjects upon him.

But I know I’ll stick by him. There will be turbulence, but I love him enough to stick with him through it all. Whatever comes, we can bear it, and I hope I can protect him from whatever may cause him pain.

So as I see him there, grinning beside me as he sits on his porcelain horse, riding through flashing lights and gravitational forces, I know that he is mine, and I am his.

I can only hope that we don't get thrown off of the 

 

 

 

**Carousel**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ya see what i did there)
> 
> I hope you enjoy, if so please leave a comment or a kudo, if not feel free to leave any criticism in the comments, all feedback is welcome.


	9. Drained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malic finds a letter addressed to him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys have been enjoying if you want to read more feel free to leave a comment or a kudo, and if you wanna have a chat find me on Tumblr at (writtenstuffandthings.tumblr.com).

I fumble with my garage clicker as I pull my car up to my house, my hands far too shakey. I decided to throw Jamie this big surprise, with his favorite movies and flowers and cake and ice cream, all of the things I have learned he loves over the last 5 months of our relationship, in order to celebrate a new opportunity. I got asked to do a TED talk. 

Jamie and I have spent almost every day together since our first date, he practically lived at my place. Not that I can blame him. Mid-city LA isn’t necessarily the safest place. But it’s obviously a pleasure, we spend most nights eating and talking and cuddling, which is heaven.

I exit my car, grabbing the bouquet of rain lilies, which are Jamie’s favorite flower. Quickly moving inside. He had spent the night at my place, so we ate breakfast together, then he had to go tend to his shop. So before he left I told him I had to run some errands, running out to grab all our necessities for a special night in.

“Jamie,” I call out, to make sure he wasn’t here. 

No response, perfect. I run into the kitchen, quickly finding a vase to put the flowers in. As I’m filling it I see Jamie’s laptop sitting on the counter.

Interesting.

And it’s open.

Even more interesting.

One of the many things I had learned about Jamie is that he never leaves his laptop unattended. Always locked with a password. All projects he has on there have to be viewed on a different computer. I thought it weird, and a little part of my brain suspected cheating.

But Jamie would never, ever do something like that. In all honesty, I linked it more to his weird ticks that he’s been getting.

When we first started dating his ticks seemed nerve related: Jitters, wringing hands, shifting eyes. 

But now they are different. When he feels eyes on him he looks down and shrinks. When I hug him I feel him stiffen, when I kiss him he stutters. When I compliment him or say I love him, or anything like that he gets small, or gets defensive, or clenches his fist, and his eyes always look so pained.

I figure he has some self-esteem issues, but I haven’t talked to him about it. I figure whatever demons he has, he'll tell me when he's ready.

Oh shit, I need to get the house ready for tonight. I scurry back to my car, grabbing the cake, cookies, ice cream, the shitty boxed pizza Jamie loves. All of it set out and ready. Next, decorate, make the pillows nice, get some blankets.

I frantically redo a large portion of the living room, making it an optimal place for cuddling and movies. 

I sit back after 10 minutes of busy work, admiring my work. Perfect, time to text Jamie.

“Hey babe, when are you coming back, I have a surprise for you.”

Okay, now to wait.

I turn my head and see the laptop on the counter.

No, no, no. I am not that kind of boyfriend.

I wait a little longer, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram.

No reply. 

Okay, that’s normal, he is probably working really hard, onto twitter.

More waiting.

Tumblr?

No reply.

Snapchat?

Still no reply.

As I rack my brain, desperately trying to think of another social to peruse, I glance over again to see the laptop. The sun almost spotlighting it in my kitchen window.

I can’t do that, he has a password.

Have I seen his lock screen picture, that seems relatively harmless?

Before I have the chance to talk myself out of it, I’m walking over to his laptop and gently running my finger across the touchpad to wake up the computer. 

It loads up onto a word document. One titled ‘Dear Malic.’

“Oh shit,” I mutter, this must be an anniversary present, I can’t read this. It is probably some cute letter.

. . .

Okay, maybe just a little bit.

 

* * *

 

Dear Malic,

I’m sorry.

So fucking sorry.

I’m sorry that you are going to read this and hate me if you don’t already.

I’m sorry that I couldn’t be better for you.

I’m sorry that you had to choose me, and in turn, subjected yourself to this.

I should probably start from the beginning. I’ve always had an issue with self-esteem. Compliments seem to fly in one ear and out the other. None of them ever felt meaningful, nothing ever made me feel good, they just always felt so fake or artificial. When you’re 7 and an adult is saying “Oh, you are so smart,”  it doesn’t feel real. Why would someone who has so much more knowledge than me call me smart? So I associated compliments with artificial, and I guess my brain held onto that. Sure it’s an issue I can recognize now, but I couldn't kick the habit.

However insults were different. They seemed to have more impact on my cognitively undeveloped self. Cause if an adult says you are doing something bad then they must know because they feel far superior. So in that way my brain seemed to favor insults over compliments.

Very quickly my brain became a toxic space of insults reverberating around in my head, all compliments rebounding and not even beginning to weaken the fog that suffocated me. It became very apparent that I was depressed, not only to me but to my parents. So I saw a therapist.

She tried her best, but all she did was put off my problems until college when they suddenly reemerged. On my student budget, there was no way I could pay for a therapist, and I didn’t really want to anyway. I just tried suppressing it, quietly suffering with a smile on my face, ignoring the issues. 

And it sort of worked, but it wasn't a real solution, I can see that now. But I kept going with it, until I met you.

You seemed to completely destroy the fog. For the first time I was feeling stable as myself, I felt cute when you said I was, I felt like I deserved you.

But the night of the event, the first one we went to when that girl said all of those things, I really thought about us. What I was doing to your image, how I was hurting your career. How I was just some small town boy and you were an industry.

So while you were asleep, I looked up our names together. I read through so many sweet articles about how cute we were, and how people like me.

But for the first time since we met, none of it stuck. Not one word, until I found something that did.

That night, a small group of dedicated fangirls started a new thread on your fan page, the “Get Jamie Out of Here” thread.

I’m sure you can figure out what it was about. 

I read for hours about how I “turned you gay,” how I was a “gold digging piece of garbage.” Pages on pages of comments about my appearance, attitude, worth, even how I talked. Every single piece of me examined and ripped apart.

It was the only thing I read that night that stuck. And it not only stuck, but it created a little shield in my ears. A force keeping what you said from sticking. Every single word was a lie, I wasn’t cute or hot or handsome or pretty or gorgeous or sexy or anything you could think to say. Instead, I was worthless, small, selfish, stupid, ugly, dirty, or whatever else your fans could think of.

And who was I to disagree, this is millions of people inputting. If so many people agreed, the logically had to be right.

And when you first said I love you to me my knee-jerk reaction was that you were lying. That was my first thought. And every single word I heard as lie only buried me deeper, confusing me.

I wish I could say that I have this all figured out, but I don’t. 

You don’t deserve to have to deal with me when I’m like this, I at least still have that much sense. So I’ve gone, I’m not at my apartment so don’t look for me there, and I’m not at some hotel. If you haven’t already tried texting or calling me, don’t bother, I have blocked your number. 

I may never deserve you, I definitely won’t now that I’ve done this.

I hope to come back after I’m not like this, although I doubt you’ll have me.

And Malic, last thing.  I love you, more than I have ever loved anyone else.

Goodbye,

Jamie

 

* * *

 

 

I finish reading the letter, feeling my legs autopilot back to my perfectly prepared couch.

A couch prepared for two.

The movies, the cake, the ice cream, the stupid pizza I hate but he loves.

He won’t be home tonight.

So I sit and watch the empty, black screen of my tv. Feeling completely

 

 

 

**Drained**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've been enjoying leave a comment and a kudo, or come find me on Tumblr at (writtenstuffandthings.tumblr.com).


	10. Exhale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malic try his best to make things right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, we're getting to the end of this story, I hope you all had a fun time, please leave your thoughts in the comments down below.

I wring my hands out as I get mic-ed up backstage. The staff gently placing the tape to the side of my face so that the head of the microphone sits comfortably in front of my mouth.

“Sir, can you say ‘Test one-two’ into the mic.”

“Test one two,” I repeat, having done this routine before.

“Alright, you’re all set, have a seat here, and we’ll call you when you need to go on.”

“Thank you,” I mutter dully as I move to my seat.

It’s been a week since the day I came home to Jamie’s letter. A week that’s felt like a year, a year that feels like every day is slowly dragging me closer to insanity. His absence left a burning, searing hole in my being. 

I first felt angry, then nothing, then depression, then nothing. I never left the house, I ate only when necessary, and anything that reminded me of Jamie was not in my sight. It was during that time that I sat down and wrote my speech. 

I spent days, slaving over my laptop, making sure it was perfect. This talk had to reach to Jamie somehow, I don’t know how, but it has to. He has to understand how I feel, he has to see me make my point. He has to.

“Malic,” I hear a man saw, I look up from my lap to see the technician from earlier, “You're on in three.”

“Thank you, three.” I repeat, to make sure he knows I heard him. I see him return to his booth as I stand and begin to straighten out my suit.

This isn’t the first time I’ve done a talk like this, being a major pop culture star has granted me that opportunity many a time. But this talk is far more high stakes than any of the others.

I need him back, I can’t live without him any longer.

Jamie was my everything, is my everything. And to think he left because he felt like he wasn’t enough. It’s just so ridcu-

“Malic, you’re on when you’re ready.” The technician said.

I nod to him before giving him a thumbs up, then start walking towards the wings. I give one last look to him to make sure we’re all clear, to which he grins and gives a small twitch of his head somewhat resembling a nod. I turn my head forward and make my way onto the stage.

The applause I get is double that of any other entrance. However, that’s an unfair comparison considering most of these people are here for me. But that is exactly what I wanted, I wanted everyone that thinks they know me to hear what I have to say.

“Hello everyone,” I greet with a forced smile, “How is everyone doing.”

A loud group of girls screams so loud I can see the people her for intellectual purposes roll their eyes.

“Okay, so I came here to talk about my life as of recently, and some things that I have learned and have come to affect me.

“So as some of you may know, my name is Malic Johannesson. I’m a pop culture star due to my Hollywood starlet parents and my introduction to every industry presented in Hollywood. Some of you may also know that I was Hollywood’s biggest bachelor until I confirmed my relationship with a man by the name of Jamie.”

I heard a girl in the front groan at the mention of Jamie, like his name was disgusting her. God, I want to pounce on her so bad.

“Anyways, there was some backlash, but for me, it went largely unnoticed. Which is something interesting. From my view, almost all of the fans were being accepting and kind, respecting my relationship. Understanding that love can come in many different types. And let me clarify that I truly love Jamie.”

I saw the same girl turn to her friend and stick her finger in her mouth like she was gagging herself. I felt my whole body stiffen, all of my senses telling me to yell at her for how awful she was being. 

I’ll settle for being passive aggressive.

“And it is exactly that kind of behavior,” I say as I point at her, “That I come here to talk to you guys about.”

The girl blushes and tries to shrink in her seat. I feel momentarily bad before remembering how rude she was being.

“I want to start this talk with a question: Why is it so much easier to attack someone when you think they can’t see or hear you. Why can we feel no remorse for hurting someone if they don’t know it’s us.

“Well, it’s actually pretty simple, when we don’t think they can see us, we see no possible way for someone to get hurt. As for anonymously hurting someone, people can get away with it because there is no way to place the blame on the actual assailant.

“So why am I bringing this up? Well, in wake of my announcement concerning Jamie, I had my own personal encounter with hate. But we’ll get there.

“Now, of course, during my lifetime I have gotten hate. But that is just part of the burden of growing up in the spotlight. People would call me privileged, which I am, but I can’t exactly help that. They would say I have no talent, but I guess that's just subjective. Some harmless insults every now and then, but nothing I couldn’t handle.

“I would occasionally get an influx of hate when I broke up with some actress or model that my agents set me up with and their fanbase came after me, but again nothing too awful. Just some simple attacks.

“So fast forward my life until I met Jamie. Suddenly I had this gorgeous, adorable tornado of emotions flying into my life and completely destroying everything I thought I knew about myself. He taught me that I am capable of loving someone, he taught me that there is nothing more valuable than a good story, he taught me that sometimes it’s okay to let fate take control of the wheel. He always made sure I was happy and enjoying my time.

“In hindsight, I can see now that I should have paid more attention to how he was feeling. Whenever I would ask him if he was okay he would always respond with an ‘I’m fine.’ And now a lesson that the last week has taught me is that when somebody says they’re ‘fine’ they are most definitely not fine. And that sometimes, it is okay to push someone into talking. Those are both lessons I wish I had learned before last week, maybe then I wouldn’t be needing to give this talk.”

I let myself pause, watching the audience member’s faces shift into ones of concern and worry, or in case of some of the fangirls, contempt. Most likely for Jamie, which means I lured exactly who I wanted to hear me talk here.

“A week ago, I came home to an empty house and an open laptop. A laptop on which I found a letter, addressed to me. But before I delve into what was on that letter, I want to go over some statistics with you.

“According to Anderson, Bresnahan, and Musatics 2014 report on cyberbullying “Combating weight-based cyberbullying on Facebook with the dissenter effect,” ”Cyberbullying has negative effects on victims, such as lowering self-esteem, increasing depression and producing feelings of powerlessness.” Did you know suicide is the 3rd leading cause of death in the United States? 

“Do you see how intense bouts of online attacks can only add to that number. Why all of you could so easily have an extremely drastic effect on the course of someone’s life. I would know because it had a drastic effect on mine.”

I let that point sink in with the audience, this need to be powerful. Powerful enough to make a difference.

“I came back to my home a week ago to a laptop that had been left open for me. On this laptop, I found a note detailing accounts of anonymous cyberbullying that I didn’t know were occurring, because the culprits thought they were protecting me. A note speaking on the horrible feelings and thoughts that can come to you when you are a victim of cyberbullying, especially when you are someone who already suffers from self-esteem issues and mental toxicity issues.”

I watched some of the girls who were screaming at me earlier look down at their laps. Clearly, some of them had participated in some form of the cyber bashing. I just want to make them feel bad and I know I shouldn’t but every part of me is screaming for revenge.

“The note concluded, with telling me that Jamie needed to leave, he needed to be separate from me for the sake of his safety, because every time he looked at me he was reminded of all of the awful remarks that some of you made about him. And I know some of you were involved,” I say, scanning the room, my stare lingering on some of the people looking particularly ashamed.

“But,” I say, taken a deep breath in, “I’m not here to point fingers and assign blame. I’m here to talk about cyberbullying. Cyberbullying snowballs very quickly, when someone online bashes someone, others see it and think it’s okay. Which makes sense, humans are social creatures and are very easily affected by one another. It’s why the question ‘If everyone was jumping off a bridge, would you’ even exists. Humans are almost effortlessly coerced into doing as others do.

“And if you don’t believe me, I understand. I honestly haven’t provided much evidence, so allow me to give you some.”

I click the button of the small controller in my hand and see the lights behind me change as the projector that was showing a screenshot I had taken.

“This is one of my fan pages, which I have no power over, and honestly, normally don’t pay much attention to. Every time I viewed this specific page, I always saw comments and pictures, captions, shitposts, edits, memes, you name it. Normal internet stuff. I should have assumed that hate was included within the normal internet stuff.

I clicked the button again and a red circle appeared over a small section of the screen.

“This link here says, ‘Relationships and Gossip’ which is a nice cover term for ‘Let’s emotionally rip apart whoever this guy dates.’ I never knew about this abuse, but apparently, this has been going on since my first public relationship. I talked with some of my ex’s and they had all experienced this a didn’t want to tell me because they were my fans and they didn’t want me to feel bad about it. However, they were all famous prior to dating me, which means that they had all received hate before, and never needed to pay more attention to it than a couple of clicks.

“But that’s not the only thing that sets Jamie apart from them. According to them, none of the hate they received from various fan pages ever compared to the amount that Jamie has gotten and continues to receive. Because in addition to the normal attacks on appearance, fame stealing, and mannerisms, there was an added layer of homophobia. . . Yay!”

I say jokingly, trying to lighten my mood, and somewhat succeeding by earning a few light chuckles in the room.

“So let me show you some of the comments made,” I clicked the button again, changing the slide again to show some threads of this section.

“Jamie has officially made it to the top of the list of partners unworthy of Malic’s attention.”

“The fact that Malic has stuck with this whole act of dating him for charity for so long is insane, when do you think he’s going to tell him he would never be interested in a fag like him.”

“Can someone please tell Jamie that his face looks like it was hit with a shovel and he has the body of a middle-aged child predator.”

“Fucking idiot actually thinks Malic would willingly date him.”

“Go die.”

“Die in a hole.”

“Kill yourself.”

“Do us a favor and end your life.”

I watched as many of the faces in the room contorted into that of disgust and horror, while others looked ashamed.

“These are just some of the hundreds of thousands of attacks made against my boyfriend,” My voice starts to crack, “These are my fans actively making my boyfriends life a living hell, one that he wouldn’t share with me due to the fear of me thinking that he was stupid, or overreacting, or weak. These people that can say they love me can look at someone that I love, that I care for and cherish and value, and have the audacity to hurt him because they think he doesn’t deserve me. And they formulate that assumption from what, a couple of pictures and interviews.

“And it doesn’t matter if any of these people realized what they were doing was wrong because it was instantly justified when they saw others do it. Because it was instantly okay because they knew no one was going to point fingers or accuse them of hurting someone.

“Well, that’s what I am going to do now. I am going to make sure all of you that posted anything negative about Jamie on that thread, or any other thread, that I hold you accountable, that I can’t respect you, because by disrespecting someone that has become a part of me, you are disrespecting me.

I took a deep breath, to keep my voice from breaking any more than it already is. I want to cry, I want to scream and sob and beg them to apologize and beg for Jamie to come home. But I can’t do that.

“Little did any of you know,” I started quietly, “or did I know, that Jamie had his own issues. His own demons that all of this only brought to the surface.

“In his letter, Jamie talked about his struggles with self-esteem and depression in his childhood. How these issues forced him into therapy. How when that didn’t work he felt content with putting up a facade and suffering by himself, and not letting the world know. How he finally felt good about himself when we were together only for that to all come crumbling down when he discovered the massive amounts of hate that resided online for him. He was only reading what he had already thought about himself, and now that people were agreeing with him it was impossible to suppress his inner voice any longer. 

“So does it seem okay to cyberbully him now. Now that you know what you say actually has an effect, that you are actively attacking someone with a mental illness and worsening any symptoms they may have had. Does that seem fair to you?”

I stop, realizing that I’m screaming. I see the terrified faces of the girls in the front row, feeling a little bad. I take a breath and calm down.

“This is why no one should cyberbully, not just because it’s hurtful and rude and morally all kinds of fucked, but because you never know what the people on the other side of the screen are going through. You never know if they are going to be able to brush it off. You never really know. . .”

I close my eyes for a second, preparing myself for the next section of my speech, this had to be perfect. It needs to get Jamie back.

“I’m not completely innocent either, I did something awful. And that was failing to make Jamie feel like he had someone to come to. I failed one of my duties as his significant other, I needed to be there to help him through this, and I didn’t even know he was suffering.

“Sure I had an inkling that something was wrong, but did I do anything. No, I sat in my wonderfully blissful ignorance as he silently suffered and destroyed himself from the inside out. I would accept him saying ‘I’m fine’ as him actually being fine rather than him saying, ‘I need space, but I am most definitely not fine.’ There was never any need for me to revisit the topic, or press him into actually talking to me, explaining that he was dying inside and needed help.

“I’ve never been with someone like Jamie. I grew up being surrounded by people who had everything they ever needed and no reason to need to be comforted. I never knew how I was supposed to react when someone was in distress. And sure as I grew I learned basic human decency and learned how comfort people when the pain was physical or visible, but no one I’ve known has ever felt bad about themselves and not been open about it, which makes me think that I’ve never been around people who really felt bad about themselves, because most people don’t want to talk about the fact that they actually hate themselves and can’t look at something without thinking about how they don’t deserve it.

“And I get why, it’s vulnerable and scary to put yourself that out there. But you have to sometimes in order to heal. That’s why therapy is the way it is, and I should have known that. I should have let him put it off for a limited amount of time rather than until he decided he didn’t want to because that day didn’t come until he felt so overwhelmed that he left.”

I felt the tears running down my face, but kept going anyways.

“I should have told him how much I cared more, how much I love him and how much he constantly blows me away. I could have done more, and I should have done more. Which I didn’t. I rarely told him how much he meant to me, or at least way less than he deserves. And I regret that so much.

“And yet he was there every day and night to tell me that he loved me, that I was hot, that he was amazed by me, that he appreciated me.”

I hear my voice crack as I start yelling.

“And yet here is the internet telling him that he doesn’t deserve me. Are you kidding me, it is me that doesn’t deserve him. I don’t deserve his perfect angel face, or his amazing personality, or his incredible body, or anything about him. I don’t deserve him because I took him for granted, I treated him like he was always going to be there and that he was there to receive my emotions and he had none of his own.

“I feel so fucking guilty for all that I failed to be and for all I failed to do, and I am so sorry that he felt like he wasn’t deserving because he is so fucking wrong, so awfully wrong. And I can’t go back to my empty home without remembering that he isn’t there anymore.”

I try to choke down a sob as I cover my mouth with my hands.

“So Jamie, please come back. Please,” I beg weakly, “I need you, and I’m so sorry. I swear that you will never feel that way again and I’ll make sure of it, just please, please. . .”

I lose the ability to speak as I fall to the floor, uncontrollably sobbing, all of the emotions of the past week rushing back to me in a ferocious torrent that ripped me apart.

 

* * *

 

I don’t remember how long I was on the floor, I just remember feeling arms around me and being ushered off stage. I think it was the technician, but I’m not sure and I haven’t had the heart to go back to the live stream and check. I just can’t care anymore.

I lay on my couch because it’s way closer to my door than my bed is. I just can’t be bothered to do anything but sleep. I did everything I could possibly do. What happens now is up to fate, and Jamie.

So I’ll wait.

Wait for Jamie, I need to give him the ability to make his own decisions. I need to learn from my mistakes, and whether he wants to come back to me after what I did will be his choice.

And ironically enough, that is when a knock came to my door.

I shoot up and run over to the door, desperately flinging myself onto the door handle and throwing the door open. And just outside stood-

“Jamie,” I mutter, barely able to fathom the fact that he is in front of me, that he is close enough that I could just reach out and touch him.

“Malic,” he says, slowly looking up at me, “I’m so sorry.”

I stood there, silent for a second, confused, “Sorry, what?”

“I said I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Jamie,” I said stepping sideways, “Come inside, it’s cold.”

“No, I won’t come inside until you forgive me,” He said, tears welling in his eyes, “Malic, I’m so sorry for-”

“I forgive you,” I say, tears welling in my own eyes, “Though you have nothing to apologize for.”

“But I left you,” he says.

“Not your fault.”

“But I made you feel guilty.”

“Not your fault.”

“But I-I,” He stumbles.

“Nothing about this should make you feel sorry,” I say tears in my eyes, “I need you to listen to me, can you do that for me.”

He nods, with tears in his eyes.

“I will never make you feel like you did earlier, I will never make you feel alone, and I will fucking never let you think that you don’t deserve me, because you are my one and only, my sun, moon, and stars. You are my soulmate, and I want to marry you someday. So,” I step to the side again, “Will you please come in.”

He walks towards me, before he stops in front of me, with tears running down his face, and gently reaches up and pulls my face down into a kiss.

We stand there for a few moments, just soaking in each others presence. Breathing in each other, and for the first time in a week, we could both

 

 

 

**Exhale.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, leave your thoughts in the comments.  
> (P.S. The research is real)


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some lovey-dovey recap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE MADE IT  
> We made it to the end, and I hope all of you enjoyed. I know it was quite cringey and stuff but that means I'm improving from ultra cringey.  
> Anyways, thank you to all that read and extra thank you to all of you that left comments or kudos.  
> I hope to see you for more stories, especially with these two.

“Babe, come downstairs I wanna show you something,” I yell up the stairs to Jamie.

“Be down in a second.” He calls back down, as I get everything ready.

Today was Jamie and I’s six month anniversary. So, as any loving boyfriend would do, I wanted to do something special, so as I set out the table and carefully placed a very special leather-bound book in the center.

“Now, what is it that you wanted to show me,” he muttered, rounding the corner and finding the table set nicely and the scrapbook he gave me on the first day we met in the center, “Is that the-”

“Scrapbook?” I finished, he nodded, “Yes it is.”

“I can’t believe you still have that thing,” he chuckled.

“Well, I couldn’t just throw it away now could I. It’s kind of the reason we are dating.”

“Actually, I think it’s the fact that you decided to indulge the creepy store owner who was practically drooling over you.”

“And why do you think I took a chance on you,” I smiled, “It’s because you had this amazing knack for storytelling and an incredible eye for treasures, and you told me to scrapbook, which was single-handedly the best and cutest advice anyone could have given me.” I walked up to him, wrapping my arms around his lower back and pulling him into a chaste kiss.

“So why do you still have it.”

“Because I used it silly,” I laughed as his jaw dropped, “Okay, okay, I wasn’t very good at it so I only have a couple of pictures, but what did you think I was going to do, not take the advice of the adorable stranger in the antique shop?”

“Yes, Malic. That would be the logical decision,” He chuckled a little.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” I pull up a seat for him, “You want to go through it?”

“Yeah,” he nods vigorously.

“Okay,” I giggle. I grab the book and open it.

“Oh my god,” He laughs, looking at the first picture.

It was the picture we took when we first met, the one we took with the polaroid sitting on his counter. My arm wrapped around him and both of us smiling into the camera.

“It’s cute,” I nudge his side.

“It is, but whenever I see this picture, I remember how you gave me my copy with your number on it and left me in my shop all flustered.”

“I am pretty smooth, aren’t I?”

“You are,” he laughs as I flip the page to see a printed screenshot I took of one of our text messages.

“This one is the text when you agreed to go out with me. I needed a physical document of course.”

He groans, “You are such a dork.”

I feign offense, “I like to think of myself as a romantic.”

“Whatever,” He flips the page this time, “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” I say as I point to the picture of him lying in the grass on a dark field looking up at the stars, our first date, “You look so cute.”

“I don’t even remember taking this picture,” he giggles, leaning into my side.

“I’m sneaky,” I say, rubbing his head and tousling his hair.

The next picture is of us at the shop.

“What is this?”

“It’s when I asked you to let me help at the shop and you asked me out on the second date,” I saw fondly.

“I totally forgot I did that,” he said, hiding his face in his hands.

“I thought it was cute,” I say, wrapping my arm around him.

The next photo is of us in the back of the shop, with Jamie sleeping in my arms as we sat against shelves.

“Okay, how the hell are you taking these pictures,” he laughs, looking disbelievingly at the photo.

“I’m a wizard, Jamie,” I say in a mock serious tone jokingly making 'wizard' gestures with my hands.

“Was this when I told you the shop was suffering financially and then I threw myself at you like the blubbering baby I am,” He laughs.

“Yes, but you aren’t just any baby, you’re my baby.” I rub his shoulder and laugh as his face turns cherry red.

“You would think after six months I wouldn’t be blushing as much, but you’d be wrong.” 

“I think it’s cute,” I kiss his cheek.

“Stop, I’m going to combust,” He screeches, holding his face. I flip the page.

The next photo is of the tabloid that outed us to the world.

“Huh,” he says, “This is different.”

“It reminds me of the night this was released, and we started making out and almost burned down the house.”

“Oh yeah,” he giggles, “I forgot about that.”

“It was also the first time we said ‘I love you’.”

“Yeah,” he turns to me, “it was.” he pecks my cheek.

The next picture is the picture of us on the red carpet.

“You look really good in a tux,” I say, looking at the photo.

“As do you, granted I think you look a little better than me.”

“Nonsense,” I say, flipping the page before he has the chance to object.

The next picture is of Jamie, in his flower crown, sitting on a horse on a carousel, illuminated by the golden lights around him.

“It’s the fair,” he smiles fondly.

“It’s the fair,” I repeat.

“You made me eat funnel cake by sticking my face in it,” he says as he playfully hits me.

“Yup,” I smile proudly as I flip the page.

The next photo was of the letter he wrote to me.

“Why did you take a picture of this,” he murmurs.

“Because I wanted to have it to remind myself, that I will never make you feel like that ever again.”

“Malic you didn’t make me feel like that, I’ve told you a thousand times.” 

“Well, then I will always keep you from feeling like that,” I gently kiss his forehead, “And that’s a promise.”

“Okay.”

I flip the page, and there is a photo of Jamie and I laying in bed, Jamie still asleep and I making an exaggerated shocked face.

“When was this?” he asks.

I quietly say, “It was the morning after you came back to me.” A somber smile comes to my lips.

“Oh,” he says, “I’m so-”

“Jamie I swear if you say you’re sorry one more time I will never kiss you again.” I jokingly interrupt.

“Nooooo,” Jamie groans, “I’m melting.”

We both laugh before we start kissing. Nothing intense or sexual, just passionate and loving.

“So,” he starts after we break away from one another, “What’s your next picture going to be.”

“Well,” I start, “With us having just hit our six month anniversary, I was thinking we could do something today.”

“Like, a picture?”

“Yeah,” I nod.

“Okay, one sec,” He quickly runs upstairs before running back down with a Polaroid camera.

I laugh, “Do you antique store owners just always carry one on your person.”

“Shut it,” he says, “You are voluntarily dating me, which means that you have to deal with this.”

“Fair.”

He sits next to me, scooting in. I wrap my arm around him, emulating our first picture together. I hear the camera click and the photo slides out. We take the photo out and peel off the negative and shake it to help it develop.

Together, holding hands, we slide the photo into the

 

 

 

 

**Scrapbook.**

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, leave a comment or a kudo, it helps a lot. If not, I'd love to hear your feedback.


End file.
